Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift
by Nitebreaker
Summary: The 'verse is no stranger to warfare, but things can always get worse. A stranger appears, with a strong and unusual connection to River. New allegiances may have to be forged...if anyone is to survive.
1. Chapter 1

Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift

…

Chapter 1: A Stranger in a Strange Land

….

 _I don't own the Firefly franchise in any capacity. If I did, it would still be playing._

… _.._

" _Do you want to know what Hell is? I'll tell you, if you'd really like to know._

" _Hell is when the one person in all Creation who means the most to you is taken from you by monsters._

" _My name, in the worlds of humans, is John Smith. It's not my real name, of course. But I suppose you can tell that by looking at me._

" _I come from a sunlit world with light blue skies and sparkling azure seas, seas made for swimming. I remember swimming in them when I was small, barely hatched out of my egg, darting through the water, first one way, then another. It was so much fun. Like flying._

" _The females who tended to my group of hatchlings were nervous, of course, and with good reason. There were, after all, a number of large predators in those seas, in spite of the sonic impulse drivers that were supposed to keep them at bay, and a small one of my kind would make a tasty mouthful. But I was careful (and perhaps a trifle overconfident, the way young of many species are); even at that young age, I knew to avoid any areas where I could not see. It's the places you can't see where danger abides._

" _And there is so much of the universe you can't see…_

" _But I'm babbling._

" _I trudge onward through the snow and ice, wrapping all four of my arms around my upper torso, in a vain attempt to conserve what body heat I have left. My heatsuit gave out on me long ago, its capacitator losing its tiny war with the cold, and now my reptilian biochemistry is struggling to adapt to the intense chill. If I'm not mistaken, it's getting colder._

" _But I keep going. I will not stop until death claims me, which, my rational mind tells me, won't be very far off now. The only light in my entire life, the one person in all the worlds whom I have ever truly loved, River Tam, has been taken by the Rrift, beings who look like me but who are nothing like me. The cold is biting; I feel it like a live thing has settled onto me and is gnawing away on my bones._

" _I don't care._

" _I only know I must find her. I must get her back. I must return her to the worlds of men. They have not been kind to her, but they are preferable to the Rrift._

" _So I trudge onward through the ice and snow, each step becoming harder and harder. I will, of course, die. The thought does not bother me, unduly. If only I can rescue River, I will gladly surrender to the Great Darkness. I do not care what happens to me; River is all._

" _I am a four-armed, betailed, scaly reptilian alien being from a world whose homestar humans can't even see without the aid of extremely powerful telescopes, who is hopelessly, madly in love with a descendant of warm-blooded primates. And I will not stop._

" _I will not stop._

" _I will not stop._

" _I will…not…stop._

" _I…_ "

….

The three figures, wrapped in as many clothes, jackets, headgear and footgear as they could find and squeeze into, stared in amazement at the tableau in front of them.

Lying on its side before them, ice crystals beginning to form on it, was the most bizarre creature any of them had ever seen. It was bipedal, but there all resemblance to humanity ended.

The creature had a wedge-shaped reptilian head with a kind of spiny collar, a collar now folded against the neck. It had four eyes, set far back in the skull, and protected by bony ridges. It was covered in overlapping scales, with four arms, each one terminating in viciously clawed, seven fingered hands, wrapped around it. The creature itself seemed to be huddled in a semi-fetal position, legs drawn up underneath it. There was a tail jutting from low on its backside, an armored prehensile-looking appendage, wrapped around those. It was impossible to measure its height, curled up as it was, but it seemed to be about the same height as a man, perhaps a little taller. Overall, a more vicious-looking creature could hardly be imagined, yet, for all that, it was huddled here, either dying or already dead. "What is it?" asked one, in a hushed whisper. Like he was afraid of waking it up.

"Is it dead?" asked another, almost simultaneously.

One of them produced a small hand-held sensor unit, adjusting it for the flying snow around them. The blizzard hadn't let up for two days now, and it played hob with the instruments. He shook his head. "Can't tell. It's either dead or," he nodded towards the thing in the snow, "maybe in some kinda hibernation. Either way, I'm not gettin' any readings."

"So whadda we do?" asked the smaller of the two men. He shifted, nervously. The thing before him evoked every primal fear humanity had of reptiles. "I vote we shoot it. Just to make sure."

The first one who'd spoken, a woman, thought a moment. Then, "We take it back with us. You, and you…get those ropes out. Tie it up. Then, let's see if we can figure out some way—*"

"I ain't touchin that thing!"

"Yes you are." He still looked stubborn. "Do as you're told. Besides," she said, "it'll be tied up. And …" An idea sparked in her mind, "Worst comes to worst, we can always use the meat. C'mon," she said, "I bet it tastes like chicken."

That put things in a different light.

….

 _I awaken. My first sensation is one of light and warmth, though not much of either. My second is that my arms and legs—and tail—are securely tied with what appears to be some form of fastenings, so that I can barely move._

 _I open my eyes, turn my head, and see the human sitting at a small table across the room from me. He seems to be playing some kind of card game. Solitaire, or some variant, no doubt. He notices me moving, and I see fear coming onto his features. It occurs to me that I've always been able to decipher human facial expressions, even Before._

 _He hits a small button on the wall. No personal communicators? But perhaps they have them, but simply choose not to use them for some reason or another. "_ Hey, this thing's awake."

" _This thing"? But of course he means me. I can hardly expect anything else. Memory comes back, and I remember passing out in the snow and the cold. I was unable to shapeshift, so quite naturally, they found me in my true form. Naturally, I'm a "thing" to them. I'm not really surprised._

 _Two more humans, also bundled up against the cold, which reaches even into this area, enter by the door. One of them, an older but by no means old, female, looks at me long and hard. It makes me uneasy; in both our species, the female is considered the more dangerous, and rightly so. Were my hands free, I would use my uppermost hands to cover my eyes, a polite gesture of respect and nonthreat among my people. But of course I can't do that with them bound._

 _To those of my kind, our eyes are more than just optical receptors. We can also enter the minds of others, sometimes forcing them to do our will, hence the gesture. It shows that we come in peace. However, thinking about my situation—I am clearly a prisoner, not a guest—perhaps it is best I keep that particular ability to myself, for now._

 _Put it another way, I have yet to determine if indeed I do come in peace._

"Can you understand this language _?" the woman asks. I can see, by their body stance, that they are both afraid and disgusted by my appearance. Pity; I had hoped for a more positive attitude. But perhaps that is something I can achieve, with a bit of effort._

"Yes _," I reply, as best I can, my mouthparts not being flexible enough to enable me to be fully capable of human speech. I do not have the translator from my ship, which would render my words into something much more intelligible to these obviously frightened humans. Seeing that fright, I myself feel fear: humans have been known to do some pretty horrible things to others—even of their own kind-when afraid._

 _Unfortunately, humans are not the only ones capable of doing horrible things to others. But at least they have that excuse. "_ Yes, I can understand this language. I apologize if my words are not always intelligible _." Perhaps this is a good way to allay some of their fears: an apology up front._

 _It does seem to work. They relax, slightly. But I remind myself that humans are very complex. Just because their fears are allayed in this one area does not mean they will kiss me and welcome me with open arms._

 _The woman looks at me, scrutinizing me up and down. Then, "_ Who are you?"

"Among humans, my name is John Smith." _Their expressions harden; did I say the wrong thing? "_ I adopted that name because my real name is unpronounceable in any human tongue."

"I see." _She still seems afraid, and maybe a bit hostile. "_ I suppose that makes sense. But that means you've had dealings with humans, right? So…'John Smith'…who, exactly, are you, and why are you here?"

 _Now I must think of a suitable lie. It would not do to tell them my true reason, yet it must be close to the truth in order to be believable. "_ My ship crashed, several of your miles away. I…well, I went looking for help." _Which is true, in a way. Sort of._

"Help _?" mutters one of the men, "_ how could you expect to get help out here? What kind of help?"

 _I see immediately what he is actually asking: How could I, an alien monster, possibly expect any rational human to help me? "_ The help of one intelligent being to another." _I turn my head in his direction, no easy task, considering my bindings, and I notice he chooses not to look me in the eyes. Does he know, or suspect, about my people's ability? Or does he simply not wish to look at the monster? "_ I am not an invader. I am, after all, only one being, and not a warrior, at that. I wouldn't make much of an invasion force, if that's what you're thinking."

"Never mind what we're thinking." _She pauses a moment. Then, "_ How is it you speak English so well?"

"I have studied it. It seemed only logical to study and master the local languages of the people I would be likely to contact here." _And polite, I think. The Rrift would never bother._

"So you're here…on purpose? You came to…contact us? This is just a 'first contact' sort of thing? 'Take me to your leader?' 'E. T. phone home?'" _I have no idea what this last sentence means._ "Hm. I'm not sure I believe you. Your answers seem just a little too…too reasonable. Almost like you had already studied, decided on, what to say were you captured by humans… You say your ship was damaged? How did it happen?"

"It was targeted by military ordnance. I was lucky to escape with my life, and what ship I still had around me."

"Who attacked you?"

"They are called the Rrift."

"Never heard of them."

"Be glad that you have not."

 _She seems to be struggling to determine whether or not I am telling the truth or not. I cannot tell her the whole truth. First, she would not believe me, and second, she would consider me a threat. And, if she knew and believed about the Rrift, she could easily panic. To be completely honest, I'm not far from panicking myself. "_ Why should I believe you?"

"I can prove what I say, to a degree."

"Oh _?"_

"I can take you to my ship, what remains of it. You could see for yourself the damage. Perhaps you are familiar with how such ships can be damaged by hostile fire."

"How would I know you weren't fired upon by human forces?"

"You would not. Except that if humans had damaged my ship, I doubt they are far behind me."

 _One of the men turns to her. "_ He's gotta point there. If an Alliance patrol ship shot him down, they'll be looking for it. They'll come here _._ _" This possibility seems to alarm him._

 _For the first time, it occurs to me that I may have fallen in with brigands, those on the run from their own kind. If so, it changes a few things._

"So…you can take us to your ship, eh?" _I can almost see the chain of thought in her mind: an alien ship, many parts damaged, perhaps, but something to be salvaged…unknown, and therefore potentially valuable, alien technology…and, worst comes to worst, an invading alien monster to turn over to this "patrol," no doubt for a substantial reward._

 _Not exactly the welcome I had hoped for. But I am prepared for it. "_ I can _." I try to rise, but am restrained by these hempen ropes they have. I wonder where they acquired them; almost all human bindings I have encountered before consist of a rubberized plastoid. These ropes are nearly antiques._

 _I hope they won't mind if I have to break them._

"Alright _." She turns to the large of the two men. "_ Untie him."

 _The man looks shocked._ "You're crazy! That…that…thing…! We can't just, just untie it! What if it's got, like, poison fangs or something?"

"That's why we've got guns," _she says, hefting a large caliber slug thrower. She turns to me. "_ You bite anybody, or anything like that, it'll be the last thing you do."

"I understand. No biting." _I have more subtle means at my disposal, anyway._ "I shall make no hostile moves."

 _The big man moves slowly to undo the ropes. "_ Cover me _," he says to the smaller one. He's clearly wary of me; well, I suppose I can't blame him. Or them. My hands and feet are released, and I rub my wrists in a gesture I share with humans, to assist the circulation. They watch, nearly hypnotized, seeing the coordination between my upper and lower sets of arms. I remember River also had that reaction, when we first met. I suppose it's understandable. "_ How far away is your—wait. What did you just do? _" She is referring to the brief hitch of breath I made, when I thought of my love in the cruel claws of the monstrous Rrift. Of what they might be doing to her, even now._

"It…is nothing. I am not completely compatible with your atmosphere. Occasionally, I have difficulty with it." _The lie comes easily to me. I look up at them, an expression of honesty on my face, even though I am sure they cannot decipher it. "_ I am used to a bit more oxygen. Sometimes it causes that reaction. It is unimportant. _" They don't seem to know how to respond to that_. "To answer your question, I am not absolutely certain of the distance, to my ship, in your miles, and during my sojourn outside, I fear my ability to gauge the distance suffered, due to the cold. As you have no doubt guessed, my kind are cold-blooded. _" I want to warn them: if the Rrift are in this area—and my experience indicates they most definitely are—we are all in very serious danger. But I sense they do not really believe me when I talk about the alien menace._

 _It is a huge gamble, taking them to my ship. I can only hope I can persuade them to assist me in repairs, perhaps in exchange for some of my less necessary technology (always assuming they do not simply wish to acquire it all, which they could so easily do; my corpse would be unable to keep them from doing so), or perhaps, should I be able to convince them of the danger, from fear of the Rrift. Or, perhaps…other means at my disposal._

 _I would hate to do that. But I will do anything, even the unspeakable, to rescue my love from the clutches of the vile Rrift._

 _I am quite willing to die in so doing, if only I can. River means all to me._

 _There is nothing I would not do for her._

….

Lloyd considered. Here was a golden opportunity to get off this cesspool of an asteroid. This thing—this alien—it no doubt had some sort of advanced tech they could exploit, sell, at the very least. Maybe if they could learn to use it themselves. No doubt the thing had weapons, even if those weapons had been damaged, they could be repaired. Just the fact that the thing was here in the first place, in the 'verse, implied tech more advanced, or at least different, than anything humans had. It obviously came from somewhere outside the solar system—the 'verse—but how was that possible? She'd always heard there was nothing outside the 'verse, that the Reavers went mad from going to the very edge of the system and looking at the nothingness outside…yet here was proof that there was _something_ out there. It had to come from somewhere…and that meant the space outside the 'verse wasn't the empty nothingness they'd heard. So…there was no way this didn't represent opportunity. "Alright," she told the creature, "take us to your ship. We'll see then…what we'll see."

"I need to recharge my heatsuit," said the thing, in its sibilant voice. "I'm afraid the capacitator has lost its charge."

"I wondered how you got as far as you did," she murmured. Now that she looked, she could see that the thing was wearing some sort of fine-woven net of some sort of material around its torso, legs, and arms. She covered the creature with her gun. "How do you recharge it?"

"Lloyd, you can't be thinking of-*!"

"I most definitely can and shut up. You," she gestured towards the alien with her gun. "Get up and see if we have any usable ports you can charge your suit from."

 _I get up, still rubbing my wrists, legs and tail—the last of which is least affected by the cold—getting the circulation back into them. I am disappointed by the reception given me, but, in retrospect, I suppose it could be a whole lot worse. The only thing that matters if finding River, rescuing her from the Rrift. Everything else is, at best, secondary. "_ I should be able to use this one, _" I tell the human female, who is evidently in charge, indicating a small port fastened to one wall. My heatsuit's adapter will be able to handle the voltage of any human-designed charging system; it already has, on multiple occasions._

 _I wonder where the others are, Mal and his group. The_ Serenity _, I hope, has not run afoul of the Rrift; if so, I fear for them._

 _There is no such thing as an unarmed Rrift ship, and no such thing as a nonhostile Rrift._

… _._

"Your ship much farther?" _the female asks me._

"It is not much farther," _I tell them. In truth, I am not sure precisely how far it is. The constant snow reconfigures the landscape every day, or at least, what passes for a day here. But I believe it to be close._ "There," _I say, pointing to a small hillock, covered with ice._ "It should be there."

"Better hope, for your sake, that it is. If it ain't, me, I'm gettin' hungry for some chicken," _says the smaller of the two men accompanying us. I don't know exactly what he means, but I can guess._

 _Disgusting. He and the Rrift would get along just fine._

…..

River Tam came to a gradual, headachey consciousness. There was a bright light shining directly into her face, and she felt sore, all over her body, as though she'd fallen down a hill. Where…? Then she remembered.

The ambush, the beings John had called the _Rrift,_ their getting separated in the confusion…she'd tried to raise the others on her communicator, but had gotten nothing but static. Either they were out of range, or the Rrift were blocking transmission.

Rrift gunfire was turning the ground around them into land mines, and she grabbed him, pulling him with her. He'd tried to shake her off— _no, you go, get away!—_ but she would no more leave him than he'd leave her. Then a particularly close explosion had robbed her of consciousness.

Now she woke up, feeling as though she'd lost a battle with a hundred Reavers. She found that she was securely bound, her hands over her head, and her feet together, in an upside-down "Y" formation, her head down, locked into the framework with some sort of metal or ceramometal cuffs. So tightly bound was she that she could barely breathe. That was probably deliberate; a prisoner who can't draw a full breath is at a distinct disadvantage already.

She could only turn her head so far. She seemed to be in some brightly lit, circular room, with a ledge overhead. It brought back some horrific memories of the Academy, where unspeakable experiments had been performed on her in the name of "education," and medical students had gathered to watch. That experience alone had scarred her, that anyone would _want_ to watch what they did to her, even if the experiments, the "treatments," as they called them, hadn't done an even better job. Now, as always, she felt…incomplete.

Until she met John.

 _John? Where are you? Are you here, anywhere?_ But she knew the answer to that. If John still lived, he would be here. Which meant…

River had heard the term "damsel in distress," and, like most things in her life, had simply not understood it. Jayne had used it on occasion, but always sarcastically, so its true meaning had eluded her. But she fully understood the "distress" part.

"Distress," unfortunately, had been a major part of her whole existence.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sibilant hissing sound from her right. A door swished open, and several reptiloid bipeds entered, carrying implements whose use she didn't really like to think of. Knowing John as she did, she recognized the overall species—John's people called themselves the _Geshen_ —but one look at their body language, and her intuitive powers told her the awful truth: these were not Geshen.

They were not Geshen at all. They were _Rrift_.

Perhaps she _was_ the damsel in distress, after all.

 _To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2: Roadside Assistance

_Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift: Chapter 2: Roadside Assistance_

… _.._

 _I don't own any part of the Firefly franchise. Nice idea, though._

 _Reviews are welcome._

… _.._

Chapter 2: Roadside Assistance

 _We reach my ship. I notice my companions have become a bit more vigilant about keeping their weapons on me. No doubt they expect me to double-cross them._

 _That only confirms my sad conclusion: they expect me to double-cross them because_ _they_ _planned on double-crossing_ _me._ _I suppose I had hopes they would possess a better moral nature. Well, not everyone does, even among my own kind._

 _The self-repair units in my small craft have managed to repair certain vital parts. They haven't had time to effect major repairs, however, but perhaps that can be done "on the fly," as Mal always put it. Meaning done in transit from one point to another._

 _I'll guess I'll have to settle for that._

"So _," says the female, whose name I understand to be Lloyd, "_ This is your ship _?" She is looking around appraisingly. It isn't a big ship, but it serves me, being designed for one being. However, my people have always built craft to accommodate more than the stated allotment, since, after all, one ship might be called upon to carry two or more. "_ Yes _," I reply. "_ this is it _." It is actually only a shuttle, but there's no point in correcting her error. Our continued association won't be much longer._

"Seems pretty big for a scout craft."

"Among my people, it is the norm to over-build a bit, whenever possible. Better too much space than too little."

"Makes sense _." The other two, the two males, are looking around somewhat nervously, their fingers never straying far from the triggers of the weapons they continue to hold on me._ "So…tell me about this…craft. For that matter, what about your people? Where are they?"

"My homestar is not visible from your solar system, without aid. And I fear my people are, to the best of my knowledge, very far away. Would that the Rrift were, also."

"You mentioned them. _" She cannot contain her repugnance at the interior of my shuttle, and, it is true, from what I have learned of humans, that it hardly meets any human standard of beauty. To my eyes, it is quite colorful, with the lights and color-coded controls. But River told me it seemed garishly colored, so I surmised that my optical receptors must be sensitive to different wavelengths than humans see. She told me that, to her eyes, everything in my ship was difficult to look at, at least, at first, and the interior filled with vicious looking spikes. I admit, most of my controls do protrude out into the control room of the ship, but that is to make them more easily accessible, especially in an emergency._

 _From watching Mal and the others, I have learned that humans frequently build cover panels into the control consoles of their ships, specifically designed to cover emergency controls and what Wash called "panic buttons" (what a strange name to give to a control feature!). That seems a bit self-defeating, to me. In an emergency, the controls should be_ _more_ _accessible, not less so._

 _It was that emergency that swept me away from River. My ship had been programmed to evade and escape the Rrift, should they show up. But River had been outside the ship's field of influence. I tried to override the controls, but I could not do so in the short length of time I had. And so I was treated to what had to be the most anguishing moment of my entire life: the love of my life, left behind to be captured by creatures with no conscience and no mercy._

 _I have heard the Rrift likened to the Reavers. Jayne once asked me what the difference was. Were the Rrift our version of these "Reavers"? Was the phenomenon universal? I could understand his curiosity. I replied, "Unlike the Reavers, the Rrift employ and develop technology. They control no less than seven star systems, and are always looking to conquer another. And they are more calculating and cunning than these virtually mindless beings of which you speak. They have the…disconcerting…habit of capturing and experimenting on any living being they come across, primarily intelligent beings. Nor are they some recent offshoot of my people; we have records of Rrift contact going back many thousands of your years. Believe me, they are much more dangerous."_

 _He'd snorted. "I bet they ain't so tough. Like to see one when I had a good gun on me. Bet he wouldn't last long."_

" _As long as you don't get too close," I'd told him, raising my tail. "This is a weapon, too. And remember: they have the same mental powers my people do."_

" _Yeah, well…" The mention of my people's ability clearly unnerved him somewhat. I could understand that; it unnerves me too. "They are very dangerous," I told him. "You cannot reason with them. If you see one, run or shoot. Do not hesitate."_

" _Yah. Say, how do we tell the difference between your kind and them? You said they look just like you…"_

" _It is actually very simple. They are monsters."_

"So _," says Lloyd, still looking slyly at the controls of the ship. I can see that she is having second thoughts about simply appropriating my craft. How would she control it? Nothing is laid out like a human craft, and there are no markings they can make sense of._ "So tell me about these Rrift. Where are they? What can we do about them?" _And I know the meaning of her words. She is trying to comprehend the controls of my craft, but that is something she will never do. Kaylee once tried, unsuccessfully, to understand it, even to the point of endeavoring to open panels and trying to follow conduits, but she never did. I know now that difficulty lay largely with her inability to see the wavelengths my eyes can, and the lack of proper instrumentation. Poor Kaylee; they practically had to pry her away from it with a crowbar. And Kaylee knew machines far better than Lloyd._

 _But Lloyd is also asking about what mankind can do about the Rrift. That is a valid question. But I also sense she is wondering if I am not making up a "boogey man" designed to scare her._

 _I wish the Rrift_ were _only products of my imagination._

"The Rrift are present here in your solar system, but I do not know their base of operations." _I move to sit at the command chair, a seat designed for one of my kind, with a slot in back for my tail….strange. Before I met River, I had never even noticed that._

"Hold up _," says the big man, hefting his gun. "_ Don't do anything funny here _." It's fairly obvious he still has hopes of killing me and taking my ship. Lloyd, I can sense, also wants to take my ship, but is trying to think of some reliable ways of coercing, or deceiving, me into piloting it. She is the more intelligent one of the three, and therefore the most dangerous._

"I will make no hostile moves _," I assure him, "_ but I need to activate this _." And I point to a slim spike protruding from the wall._

"What's that?"

"A safety feature. A containment field. I understand human ships also use containment fields for their nuclear-powered vessels, correct?"

 _Lloyd hesitates, and my hearts almost stop. It is imperative she believe me. Then, "_ Well, I…guess. That won't start your ship up, will it?" _I can feel her sharp gaze upon me, trying to read my expression._

"No. It is only a safety feature."

"Hm. Well…okay _." With her head, she nods to the big man, telling him silently to keep alert for any sign of treachery on my part. He hefts his gun…_

… _And I reach out, very slowly, and pull the spike out, twist it just so, then replace it in its slot. "_ There _," I say. They look around; nothing seems different, and the ship has not started. They begin to relax. I stand up, flexing my knees and elbows. Now comes the hard part. "_ You may put your guns down now."

"Huh?" _"_ What?" _Her suspicion, and his, come back threefold. The smaller man, who has been hanging back, moans slightly in fear._

"Your weapons will no longer function. The 'safety feature' I just activated disables all weapons within my ship's field of influence. So you no longer need them."

 _Futilely, they press the triggers on their guns, their expressions growing more desperate as the only response is a metallic clicking. "_ You tricked us!"

"Only a little," _I reply. "_ I did tell you I'd take you to my ship. And, as you see—well, perhaps you can't tell—it has been damaged and is in need of repairs. But I suppose I'll not get that help from you."

"Damn you!" _says Bigger Man. "_ I told you so!" _he shouts to the woman. "_ I gotta weapon you can't disable!" _And he pulls out a large-bladed knife and lunges at me._

 _I dodge his clumsy slash, grab his arm in a move River showed me, and twist the knife out of his grip. I then slam him back against the wall, careful not to let him get impaled on the spikes that form my ship's interior control knobs. He rebounds, surprise in his eyes. I'm stronger than I look. I then slam a lower fist into the side of his head, being careful to close my hand first (my people's fighting style usually involves using our open hand, our claws, and I've no wish to risk opening up his flesh; after all, he has not the natural protection that I do), and once again slam him into the bulkhead. He slumps, semiconscious. The smaller man makes some sort of mewling sound and rushes me, holding his gun like a club. I grab his gun with my tail and kick him back the way he came. He falls against the wall, and goes down._

 _But the woman produces a slim, very sharp spike and hurls it at me. "No!" I shout, but I am too late. My shuttle's safety containment field intercepts the missile and directs it back the way it came, hitting her in the face. Fortunately, the point does not dig into her face, but the force of the blow stuns her. She is lucky; she could have lost an eye._ "I tried to warn you about that."

 _It doesn't take long. They had evidently not expected any sort of serious physical resistance from me, or else had overestimated their chances of success. In the space of a few minutes , they are lying on the floor, gasping for breath. "_ You…you monster _…" says Bigger Man._

"I'm no monster _," I tell him, and the woman, who is staring at me with widened eyes, her own gun forgotten, and a purplish bruise rising on her face. "_ I'm a civilized lifeform. And I don't taste like chicken. _" This last is directed at Smaller Man, who pales when he understands that I had grasped the meaning of his comment earlier._

"What now?" _asks the woman, Lloyd. "_ Will you kill us? Eat us?"

"I'm fairly sure you intended to kill me _," I say,_ "and, from remarks I overheard," _I direct this comment at the smaller man, who moans again,_ "I doubt I would have been safe from your cookpots, but, unless you force me to, I have no plans to kill you. I wasn't lying when I said I needed help. But I suppose I just found the wrong people. Or they found me, to be more precise." _I turn back to the console, careful to keep them in my field of view. "_ But you did save my life. So I am, to some degree, in your debt." _I doubt they can detect the sadness in my voice. I had so hoped to find civilized beings. I take something from a small alcove on the wall and toss it to her. "_ So here. This is an interstellar communicator. Faster than light, quite a bit faster than the ones you currently have. You can either sell it, or, my personal recommendation, learn how it works and sell the plans, and keep this one for yourself. Because I wasn't lying about the Rrift: they are in this star system, that you call the ' _verse_. And they are a serious danger, to you and yours. You might need this, to summon my people. I don't know if they'd come to your aid or not, considering that our…encounter hasn't been of a completely positive nature, but they may. Or, if you can learn how the device works, you can perhaps use it to more easily summon your own. I gather," _I say, and they can't read my expression of irony,_ "that you may have…difficulties…with your own law enforcement authorities, but no matter how bad such relationships are, I can guarantee you they are preferable to the Rrift. For they have no mercy." _They continue to look at me, certain, perhaps, that, at any moment, I will leap upon them and devour them. If so, they will be disappointed. I turn, pull out another crystal, turn it into the "on" position, and am satisfied to hear the low thrum of my ship's engines coming online. Apparently, the self-repair unit was able to at least get the space drive to functioning. I presume this area must be sufficiently rich in the materials the nanobots needed. But, I see, no power to the star drive yet, and still much damage to the sensors and many other components. Well, it cannot be helped._ "I will return you to your base, now, and take my leave of you."

…..

River didn't know that there was this much pain in the universe.

Back when she'd been a "student" at the Academy, the Alliance base dedicated to churning out assassins and supersoldiers, she'd been the subject of inhuman experiments and tortures. But that was nothing compared to what she was going through now.

They had not physically harmed her. They made no incisions or cuts, and there were no probes thrust into her unwilling flesh. Or rather, there were no probes of a physical nature, none she could see. But there was pain, pain beyond pain. And something worse than mere pain.

There was a growing sense of depression, despair, an ever-increasing sense of anxiety that she had no way of blocking or ignoring. What she was feeling caused her own thoughts to go down paths she knew were false, but…

 _Why hadn't John already come and rescued her? Because she was in the middle of an enemy starbase? So it would have been suicide for him to come to her? Did that then mean that he placed a greater value on his own life than hers?_

 _Why had he not grabbed her, regardless of the consequences, and hauled her into his ship? Would it have been too much bother? Did he save himself, and leave her to the mercy of these creatures?_

 _Where were Mal and the rest? She knew, had one of them been so captured and tortured as she was, that she would not have rested until she had rescued them. Why had they not rescued her? Had Jayne finally persuaded them to leave her and her brother? For that matter, where was Simon? Why had he not broken into the alien base, and rescued her?_ All these thoughts and more crowded her mind, even as fresh pain replaced the old.

They'd placed some sort of plastic-seeming appliance in her mouth, preventing her from biting her own tongue, but such was the force of her pain that she was afraid she would bite down hard enough to crack her own teeth. _John will not like me with no teeth. The others will be repulsed by the toothless hag._ She knew these thoughts were not truly hers, but the result of her situation, her pain, her desperation….

All around her, the aliens watched, those overhead watching not just the physical act of torture itself—the physical pain of others was not what this group was interested in—but the mental anguish. It was fascinating how properly applied neural stimulation could elicit such thoughts in these primitive ape-descended creatures. They took notes.

 _To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3: Flashback

Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift

Chapter 3: Flashback

…..

 _I don't own any part of the "Firefly" franchise. I'm sure you already knew that, but just sayin.'_

…

Chapter 3: Flashback

"Any sign?" Mal asked. It had been a couple of days since the Rrift attack, and they'd had to do some fancy maneuvering to get away; Rrift warships—John had told them there was no other kind—were _extremely_ well armed and faster than the _Serenity_. But they'd managed to lose them in the asteroid belt. However, in the process, they'd also lost both River and John. _I hope they're not guests of these "Rrift" I've heard about._

"Negative. I…wait. I'm getting a faint distress beacon…" Wash held up the 'phones to his ears, "Sounds like the beacon on John's shuttle."

"If he's able to broadcast that signal, it means he's alive. I hope River's with him." He sobered. "Approach carefully, Wash. Remember, this could be a trap."

…

 _Flashback:_ "Yes," said the tall, dark-haired man known to them only as "John Smith." "I can provide you with the diamond slate you desire, in exchange for the materials we agreed upon." Something about his speech patterns sounded a little odd to Mal. A little too _precise,_ too _controlled._ Almost as if he were speaking a foreign language.

"Good," said Mal, "how soon?"

The man hesitated a bit, confirming Mal's suspicions. He didn't actually have the slate. That in itself would have been a deal-breaker in the good old days; more often than not, when a client said he had to "get" the goods, at best it meant he first had to steal them, then shift holdership of same to someone easy to trick, a way of fencing stolen property before you actually went to the risk of attempting to steal it. Now for the second stanza in that song: _"But if you'll just trust me with the cubes, I can give you my personal word, blah, blah, blah…"_ Which was usually a polite way of saying, "just give me the stuff and forget about payment." It was so very discouraging. And here he thought he'd actually found someone legit. (Odd, though; not many people would go to a back alley dealer such as himself, a known dealer in contraband, for library data cubes. When Mal had asked, in a roundabout way, why "John Smith"—of course that was an alias-hadn't simply purchased the cubes on the open market, the reply had been, "I'm trying to fly beneath the radar." Which only added to his puzzlement.) "It will take me a little while to acquire the slate, but I can have it for you in two days' time. Where might we meet?" He took another sip of his drink, which appeared to be coffee. Odd; Mal didn't think it looked entirely like coffee. Or smelled like it.

Mal thought. Truth was, they didn't _exactly_ have the cubes requested, and for _exactly_ the same reason that he had feared Smith didn't have the slate. It would take more than two days' time to "liberate" them. Time for a long shot. "Well, I admit, I had hoped we'd be able to complete this transaction today," _hoping you take that as meaning I already had the cubes,_ "but we have another pressing appointment to keep, and won't be back in this area for another week. I suppose," he said, rubbing his chin as though in thought, "we could meet back here." The two, along with Jayne, were currently in a saloon that, like the rest of the town, had clearly seen better days.

"I suppose a week is acceptable." Again, something about the way the guy spoke set off little alarm bells in Mal's highly trained and extremely suspicious mind.

But a score was a score. It would keep the _Serenity_ flying, and keep supplies coming in. And the guy was offering a substantial quantity of slate. "Alright. A week it is, then." He moved to get up.

The man raised one finger. "There is one small condition." _Uh oh._ "I'd like to see your ship first."

 _Alliance man? Gotta be._ "Why's that?" Mal asked, guardedly. He noticed Jayne stiffened, and could tell his comrade also found this suspicious.

"I'd like to make sure that both it and you are up to the task. After all, anyone can _say_ they have a ship."

Mal glanced at Jayne, who glanced back and shrugged. _Your call._ "Alright. I take it you know better than to try to bring any weapons on board, however."

"I do. And I trust you will understand if I don't bring any samples of the trading material."

 _Okay, so not so dumb as I had hoped._

The _Serenity_ was parked out by the edge of town. It was barely visible from the back alleys that Mal and Jayne normally used when this close to Alliance territory—no point in advertising their presence on the main streets. On the way there, Mal surreptitiously got on his communicator with Shepherd Book, who was preaching a revival in the small local church. "Get back to the ship now," he voiced, quietly. After all, if the guy was Alliance, they'd have to lift quickly; there'd be no time to hang around for anybody.

And if the guy was Alliance, they'd have a corpse in need of last rites. Hopefully only his.

Up the ramp, Zoe was waiting. She appeared unarmed, but Mal knew better. Wash would be at the controls, ready to lift the ship off in a moment's notice. If Derrial wasn't already back on board, he might get left.

But the guy had just stepped into the entranceway of the ship when he stopped dead, a look of puzzlement on his face. He turned his head up, and _sniffed,_ as though testing the air. _Is he implying my ship stinks?_ Thought Mal, his temper starting to rise. But in the next second, the man said something that _really_ got _all_ their attention: "Where is she? Where is River Tam?"

….

Meanwhile, River had come up behind Zoe, attracted by the proceedings. When she saw who was standing in the doorway to the hold, her expression became one of amazement…with a mix of disbelief thrown in. "John?"

"River? Is—is that you?" The two approached each other, almost warily at first, until River practically threw herself into his arms. His arms went around her, and he cradled her head against his chest. "Where were you? I looked everywhere…"

River's expression was more intense than any other time they could remember. "I…didn't make it."

"Oh, River. What did they _do_ to you, girl?"

"I take it," said Mal dryly, "that you two know each other."

…

Later: they'd allowed the man calling himself "John Smith" and River a small room where they could talk. Simon had been reluctant; River was his kid sister, and she'd already been through enough in her life. The last thing she needed was to be left alone with some strange man. "Relax," said Mal. "They're in a room by themselves, yeah, but the door is blocked open and Zoe's right down the hallway. Besides, do you _really_ think anybody could do anything to River against her will?"

In the small room: "I, I looked _everywhere_. River, _what happened?"_

She'd managed to get herself back under control, at least to some degree. Just John being here was a huge help. She'd thought she'd never see him again. "I…got caught." This next part was going to be hard. "They…did things…" She choked up.

"No, wait. Don't try to _tell_ me what they did to you. _Show_ me." And he put his hands to either side of her head, leaned his forehead up against hers, his eyes piercing into her own….

 _The planned escape…she was to meet him on the surface. His shuttle was faster than any human craft, and together, they could get away from this horrid place._

 _But for her, discovery. The Academy didn't take it kindly when one of their star "pupils" tried to go AWOL…._

 _Horrible images of inhuman experiments, all performed in the name of the "greater good." Needles, scalpels, electronic probes, some proceedings carried out without benefit of anesthesia…_

… _and then the loss of brain function due to deliberate injury. {{How could anyone, your own people,_ _do_ _this to you?}} But she had no reply, for there was no real answer._

 _Weeks of trying to get a coded message to her brother, Simon Tam. Finally, his liberating her at the cost of his entire fortune, and his promising career. Then, life aboard the_ Serenity, _and the companionship of Mal, Zoe, Wash, Kaylee, Inara, Derrial, and even Jayne, to a degree…._

He broke contact, horrified at what he was sensing, needing to regroup. Then he as swiftly re-established it. _{{Here. Let me see if I can help.}}_

He adjusted his thoughts, adapting his own alpha, beta, and theta patterns to hers, synching wave function. There was a gap in her mental patterns, a disjunction of sorts. He reformed his own brain waves to, hopefully, conform with what was missing in hers….

River came to clinging to him, more tears running down her face. But she was feeling _normally_ again, feeling and, more to the point, _thinking_ normally, for the first time in a long, long time…

"You…you…oh, I've missed you!"

"I looked everywhere for you." He held her close. "I never stopped, River. Never. Until now."

She sniffled, wiping her nose, and looked up at him, in the eyes, those black eyes she knew to be false and true at the same time. "You have to tell them."

He frowned. "I…don't know if that's such a good idea, River. _You_ know I'm not human, but…"

"But you have to tell them, John. It'll be alright. They, they're not like the others. They're good people."

"Even good people might be the _wrong_ people, River."

"Please. Do this. Do this for me, would you?"

He sighed. "You know I'd do anything for you."

….

"Okay," said Mal. The two had had their time together, their obvious reunion seeming to result in a different River, one more…together than before. She actually hugged Inara, and cried on Simon's shoulder, a move that worried him. But she assured him she was more alright now than ever. She was actually speaking in complete sentences, making more sense than ever, almost as though she'd never suffered any brain injury. "I think it's obvious you two know each other. Care to fill us in?"

John and River were sitting across the table from the others, her hands on his arms, which were placed on the table top in front of him. "Very well. River has told me I need to tell you the truth, and I shall. Perhaps then you'll know why I sought to obtain those data cubes from you.

"River and I met at the Academy. She was a 'student,'" he put the words in obvious quotes, "but I was straight-up captured. My ship had been damaged by…some enemies, and I needed a place to go to ground while my ship's self-repair function-*"

"Wait," broke in Kaylee, "'self-repair function? What's that? I've never heard of that."

"That's because…" he sighed, glancing at River, who just nodded encouragingly, "…I am…not from around here.

"I'm not really a human being. My kind are…shapeshifters, to a limited degree. What you see is not the way I really look."

"Oh, right. And I'm the Emperor of Man," snorted Jayne. Mal held up a restraining hand.

"Alright. You say you're not human? What are you?"

"My kind are called the Geshen. I come from a star far across the gulf of space, beyond what you call the ' _verse_."

"Wait. Back up. There's nothing out there, beyond the 'verse."

"In that you are very much mistaken. There is a great deal beyond the 'verse, other solar systems, other starfaring races, other cultures. I am a representative of one."

"You said you're a shapeshifter," Mal began, cautiously. He glanced at Zoe; she nodded back. Good old Zoe. He could always count on her to be ready for anything. "Show us your true form." His own hand wasn't far from his gun.

Again the being known as "John Smith" glanced at River, whose hands had gone nowhere. She nodded to him: _go ahead. It's alright. I promise._

"Perhaps," he said to her, "perhaps you'd best stand on the other side of the room…I'd wouldn't you to…be hurt."

"I'm staying right where I am." Mal noticed Simon tensing up. Just what hold did this guy have on his baby sister? She seemed so much more _determined_ , now than before. More like the person she would have been if…

John Smith sighed. "Very well." And…

There was a micromoment of shifting, in which his form seemed to dissolve, becoming something pliable. Then, in the next fraction of a second, it resolved, and everyone there, with the exception of River, gasped.

Sitting before them, in the same place as the one calling himself "John Smith," was a nightmarish, alien creature: a reptilian biped with a saurian-like triangular head. Scales covered its entire body, scales that shifted, opening and closing. The saurian head held four deeply set, night-black eyes, protected by bony ridges. It had four arms, with the lower set looking to be substantially stronger than the upper set. Its hands were seven-fingered claws, the talons of which looked to be razor sharp, sporting two opposable thumbs per hand. Overall, a more alien creature, one more likely to instill a primitive fear in humans, could scarcely be imagined.

Only the fact that River was still sitting by the thing's side, apparently completely comfortable with its bizarre appearance, kept them from going for their guns. As it was, Jayne pulled his ever-present gun and covered the thing. Again, Mal held up a warning hand: _stand down._

 _You can't hit it without also hitting River._

"So you see, Simon Tam," said the creature, in a sibilant voice that somehow still sounded a bit like the voice it had used when in human form, "your sister's and my relationship is not what you were afraid of."

"Oh?" said Simon, "aaaand just exactly what _is_ your relationship with River?" It was obvious that River wasn't about to let the alien thing out of her sight.

The creature calling itself "John Smith" glanced at River, its— _his_ alien face somehow showing an emotion very much like affection—or something more. "I am not completely certain, but I believe she regards me as her pet."

"Good boy," murmured River, stroking the scales on his neck.

 _To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4:Stronghold

Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift: The Rescuers

Chapter 4: Stronghold

… _.._

 _I don't own the "Firefly" franchise, of course. But here's hoping you enjoy the rest of the characters, which are of my invention._

… _._

Chapter 4: Stronghold

 _The Present:_ _I transport the brigands back to their home base._ "So," _says Lloyd,_ "I suppose now you'll just take what you want."

"No," _I say,_ "That would be theft. I am not a thief. I will not take from those who can ill afford to lose what little they have." _And my eyes traverse over their sparse belongings. Clearly, they have seen some hard times. Are seeing some hard times._

 _I try to not judge people by what they have. Obviously, these persons live hand to mouth, as the saying goes. I come from a somewhat wealthier culture, so perhaps I cannot understand the forces that drive them._

 _I reach up and take down a small cylinder, opaque on the outside._ "Here," _I say,_ "A parting gift."

 _She looks at it warily. "_ What is it?"

"A portable food replicator. Simply fill it with the necessary components; carbon, nitrogen, and what other trace elements you require, and it will produce edible food, mostly protein, though I cannot guarantee the taste." _I cast a sideways glance at Smaller Man, who shivers as my eyes track over him._ "I am fairly certain it will not taste like chicken, though."

"Why are you doing this?" _asks Lloyd. And, in truth, I've been asking myself the same question._ "We don't want your pity, if that's what this is all about." _She moves to hand the replicator back to me._

"I do not offer pity. I offer what I have to those who need it. It is not pity. Consider it additional payment for saving my life, regardless of your reasons." _With that, I turn back to my shuttle. I've so many things to do…._ "There is someone I must rescue from the Rrift. Nothing must come between me and that goal. _Nothing._ " _My shuttle's door is closing._ "I bid you all farewell." _And I'm gone, up into the sparse atmosphere. The woman, Lloyd, is looking after me with the oddest expression on her face. She is probably angry that I outmaneuvered them. But her expression does not look like anger…_

 _Well, no matter. I must find the_ Serenity, _and I must find it soon. I switch on the beacon…._

… _.._

They took an exhausted River down from the rack. Sweat was not just dripping off of her, it was running off in streams, and she was barely conscious. Later on, she supposed they were gentle enough, if only to prevent damage to their test subject.

But if this was the initial tests, she wasn't sure she wanted to know about the advanced ones.

The cell she was incarcerated in bore a striking resemblance to human holding cells. There was a sink and an oddly-designed toilet fixture, combined into one. She only hoped the water from the toilet was not routed into the sink.

There was no bunk. But then she remembered that, after the others had satisfied themselves that John would not harm her, they'd quite frequently allowed the two of them to sleep in the same room. And John had, in his native form, simply curled up on the floor, apparently feeling perfectly comfortable there. Evidently the Rrift felt no need to provide their captives with such amenities as bunks. Or sheets and pillows, either.

But such was her relief at having been released from her crucifixion, that even the floor felt good. She lay down upon it and was promptly asleep.

…..

"…my shuttle was designed to automatically evade the Rrift, and, to that end, it quite literally dragged me back inside, sealing the hatches. But aside from the fact that River was outside its field of influence, its automatic function was not programmed to recognize her as an ally, a matter I have now corrected. I confess," sighed John, in his sibilant voice, "that that is my fault. I did not think of it before. I was so used to thinking of her of as…."

"Never mind," said Mal. Jayne didn't need any excuse to get any angrier or more suspicious at the alien.

But suddenly, completely unexpectedly, Simon leaped at the alien, bludgeoning him to the ground. "Damn you!" Simon didn't have much street fighting skills, aside from what he'd picked up since he'd joined the crew of the _Serenity_ , but he was in good shape and reasonably strong. "Damn you, damn you, gods _damn_ you!" He continued his pummeling of the reptiloid. "You left my sister to the mercies of those, those monsters! All you cared about was yourself, your own skin—your own scales! _No spot_ in hell is hot enough for—*" It took Zoe, Derrial, and, surprisingly, Jayne to pull him off of the unresisting alien. "C'mon, man, this isn't helping."

Mal turned to John. "You okay?" The reptiloid still hadn't risen. "You alright?" For all he knew, Simon might have hit some nerve center or broken a critical bone.

"No. I am not alright. But not for the reasons you suppose." He rose smoothly to his feet. "There is nothing Simon Tam could have done or said to me that would have hurt any more than..." He rubbed his wrists with his hands, cracking the bones audibly. "…what has already happened. But I believe I know where the Rrift base is, and that is where she almost certainly is. I will go there, alone, if I have to, and rescue her. Or, it goes without saying, die trying."

"A bit melodramatic, aren't we? You know you aren't going alone. Why do you think you would?"

"Because of where she is."

"Where's that?"

"Miranda."

…..

Far across the universe, a Geshen commando team watched in horror as a Rrift drone whipped a cadre of slaves carrying a poorly-shielded container of highly radioactive material into a Rrift munitions plant. The skin on the slaves' backs were already hanging in bloody strings and getting more so. They were not slacking in their work; the drone assigned to this task was simply enjoying himself.

Out of the corner of his eye, the commander of the team saw one of the junior members raising his gun, aiming at the Rrift drone. _"No,"_ he 'spered, through the internal telecom unit they all carried, pushing the barrel of the gun down with his left lower arm.

" _One shot,"_ begged the junior member, _"Just one shot and the slaves might have the chance to escape! Please!_ " The captain hauled him over out of sight. _"We may not like our orders but we have them. We are here to sabotage the Rrift nanobot factories. We cannot do that if they know we are here. The secrecy of our presence here is vital. It is_ _vital_ _. We dare not take the chance."_ He gestured with his tail at the slaves. _"You saw the radionic readings; you took them yourself. Those men are already dead. They just haven't stopped moving yet."_ And the junior grade could see the boils and festering cancers on the skins of the doomed slaves. The same was true of the drone overseer, but the Rrift couldn't be bothered to care about an easily replaceable drone. So what if it died? There were billions of others. And in dying it might give valuable information as to how well the drones were able to resist radionics. Perhaps the species could be improved. _"We have our duty. That duty may save more lives than these, these that are already dying. You know this. You_ _know_ _this."_

" _I….know."_ The Geshen warrior glanced back at the slaves, some of which had already fallen from blood loss and pain. Those fallen were being collected by other, higher level Rrift, either for experimental purposes, or for food. Or both. These warriors dodged in and out as fast as they could, so as to minimize their exposure to the lethal radiation. _"I only hope…that if that were us…that somebody would do…something."_

 _Be careful what you wish for._

… _._

Out on the outskirts of the solar system, something dropped out of hyperspace. It resembled a huge flattened sphere, over three kilometers wide, with a ring not visibly attached to the main mass around its equator. Although there were no organic beings on board, there were nonetheless internal communications between one part and another. _**{{Organic lifesigns detected on the fourth planet out from the sun. Two different species. One does not appear to be native to this system. These will bear investigation. }}**_

 _ **{{Acknowledged. Launch probes.}}**_

…

" _Miranda? Are you kidding?"_

"My kind do not kid. No. The last readings I got indicated a distinct ion trail leading back to the world you call Miranda."

"Makes sense," said Zoe. "The one place in all the 'verse where the Alliance wouldn't go, and nobody else would, either. But what do they hope to do there?"

"Most probably, study humans who won't be missed. No matter what you think of these 'Reavers,' they are essentially human, and subject to human frailties. And of course, could they get some line on this Paxilon Hydrochlorate 23, it would no doubt give them a large advantage in their eventual conquest of the solar system. Beings that can barely think won't prove to be very effective strategists. Plus, as I understand it, the vast majority of those exposed to this substance died, did they not? So even better.

"Nor are the Rrift above chemical and biological warfare."

Mal turned to the group. "Anybody know if the Pax would've washed out of the ecosystem by now?" Blank looks were all he got. "Yeah, that's what I figured. No data. Nobody in his right mind would go there to find out. So yeah, it makes a perfect first stop for an invading alien fleet." He straightened up, looked around at the group. They looked back; they knew what was coming. "I'm with John, here. Anybody wanna back out, now's the time to say so. Nobody'll blame you, not going to Miranda. But speak up now."

In the silence that followed, one could have heard the proverbial pin drop.

"Hey," said Jayne, with a grim smile, "one good thing about this little trip. There won't be but one person who isn't a target."

"I only hope," said John, sadly, "that we can still recognize her when we get there."

….

The next series of tests involved River's brain activity. She got the distinct impression her captors were annoyed that she was not a standard human, brain-wise. Still, although she could sense their annoyance, they nonetheless calmly ran through a battery of tests, seeing what did what. Evidently, an annoyed Rrift is no more vicious than the unannoyed variety.

Of course, the unannoyed version was nothing anyone really wanted to meet.

They hadn't asked her any questions, which she thought was odd, but then, perhaps they had never bothered to learn the language. John had said he'd had to study for years to comprehend all the variables of the human tongue, and even then, he'd made the occasional slip. But perhaps the Rrift would rather gather their information from machines that couldn't lie.

These tests were just as grueling as the physical ones, and, furthermore, she could feel herself slipping back into that strange disconnect that had characterized her life ever since the "treatments" at the Academy. John, with his mental powers, had been able to bring her to some semblance of normality, but John was not here.

An odd thing: several times, she'd noticed, the Rrift had tried to interface with her mental functions, as John had, but had apparently been unable to. Had that been due to John's influence, or the damage done to her brain, or some other feature? Maybe Rrift mental abilities simply didn't work that way. In a way, it would be surprising if they did.

Again, they dumped her back in her cell. There were no facilities for cleaning, just the sink/toilet combination, and there was no soap or other such items. She did the best she could, using her clothes as washrags, knowing full well her nudity meant nothing to the alien Rrift. But she couldn't clean the clothes very well…

She wondered just how long she could hold on. After, all, from what John had told her, the worst was yet to come.

 _To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5: Journey

Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift

Chapter 5: Journey

…

 _I don't own the Firefly franchise. If I did, there'd be an animated series playing right now. I mean, how cool an idea is that?_

…

Chapter 5: Journey

"We have to get to my ship," John was telling them. "It's the only way to enter the territory of these _Reavers,_ especially if the Rrift are there, and I am almost certain they are. Neither the shuttle nor the _Serenity_ would last long enough. And that's assuming we're dealing with only Reavers. If the Rrift are there, then…" He left the sentence unfinished, but they could all fill in the blank. The unarmed _Serenity_ , going up against Rrift warships? Not hardly.

"So where _is_ your ship?" questioned Mal.

John pulled up a three-dimensional schematic of the local planetary system. He pointed to a small moonlet just outside of Alliance patrolled space. "It is circling in a very low, forced orbit around this body."

"Wow. That low, radar would never detect it. It'd be too close to the ground. Smart move."

John looked at him peculiarly. "Of course. I told you I was trying to fly beneath the radar, didn't I?"

…

The journey to the moonlet was not without danger; John and Wash were both needed at the controls of the ship. There were Alliance patrol ships in the area, and, without proper clearance, the _Serenity_ would have, at best, a hard time getting past them. "Can't you use your weird alien powers to make 'em let us through?" asked Jayne.

"I don't have any 'weird alien powers,'" responded John, exasperatedly. Then, "Well, okay, I suppose by your standards, I do, but they don't work like that! I have to have eye contact, or at least line of sight, in order to influence other beings." He thought hard. "But I do have something in my shuttle that might help."

"What?"

"It's a…misdirection device. Stealth fields require a great deal of energy, but this simply projects the image of the ship to…another place. If I can connect it to the _Serenity's_ power source, it should project the ship's image elsewhere. Hopefully that will buy us the time to make it to the ship."

"I don't know…Alliance missiles rely on gravity signatures as well as radar. Your image wouldn't project that, would it?"

"No, but it is all I have to offer. And it may buy us some time."

…..

John worked with Kaylee to connect the _Serenity's_ power source to the shuttle's imaging device. "How does this work, again?" said Kaylee, wiping her brow, her eternal interest in machines coming to the fore.

"It is based on what you call holographic technology, only the image it projects is a solid—well, reasonably solid-force-field. Not as solid as a true ship, but solid enough to reflect radar and be seen as a ship."

"But what about _our_ ship? Won't it be seen? You said you didn't have the power for a true stealth field."

"Unfortunately, there is little I can do about that. The best we can do is be beyond the range of their detectors, or perhaps behind something. Send them on a wild duck chase."

"Wild goose chase," she corrected, her usual cheery smile decorating her face. Truthfully, even in spite of his alien appearance, John was…a really nice guy. Too bad he wasn't human.

Hm. But…he could shift into a human form….

 _Now stop that._

"Yes, wild goose chase, thank you. My mastery of your language is sometimes imperfect."

"Don't worry about it. I got what you meant." She sobered. "But, speaking of ducks, if this doohickey of yours takes too much power, we're gonna be sitting ducks."

" _That_ euphemism I fully understand. And you are correct: we may be."

…

The Operative sat in his ship, gazing ceaselessly at his monitors. He knew, or, rather, intuited, that the _Serenity_ , and the fugitive, or, more accurately, the fugitive _s_ , were not far away.

He would find them. He would capture them, especially the one called _John Smith._ The survival of the Alliance was at stake.

…

The first Alliance patrol ship they encountered was patrolling the asteroid belt Mal and Wash had currently hidden the _Serenity_ in. There was no indication that they'd been "painted" by radar. "Okay, John. Now's the time for your gizmo."

Without a word, John pressed several recently-installed controls. The lights inside the ship dimmed a bit as power was drawn, projected to the device.

"Is it working?" asked Wash. "I…can't see anything." He was straining his eyes.

"It is working. Check your own radar; it should reflect. Just be careful not to let the radar beam spill over and strike the Alliance vessel."

The radar did indeed indicate a reflection of something several hundred klicks off the starboard bow. The Alliance patrol ship moved to investigate. _"Unidentified craft. You are trespassing in proscribed space. Transmit your identity or be destroyed."_ Of course, the simulacrum did nothing. The Alliance ship moved to within firing range. _"Unidentified vessel. Transmit your identification now. You will not receive another warning."_ Again, still nothing.

The viewscreens showed missiles fired from the Alliance ship towards the fake ship. Of course, they exploded upon contact… "Now!" said Mal, nudging Wash. "Get us past that thing while the sensors are confused!"

Wash immediately kicked the _Serenity's_ thrusters into high gear, shooting it past the Alliance ship, attempting to match the course and vector of any supposed debris.

They got extremely lucky. The sensors of the Alliance ship were momentarily confused by the blast, and didn't take notice of the real ship.

But another ship did. One the crew of the _Serenity_ wasn't aware of. One following in the wake of the _Serenity_. One with much better sensors.

…

More torture for River. She wasn't sure how much more she could take.

They hadn't yet tried to "hack" (as John had called it) her brain…perhaps because they were puzzled by it, and didn't wish to waste a precious specimen. In time, though…

Her thoughts no longer made much sense to her. She wasn't sure where she was, only that she didn't like being here. Where were the others? _Were_ there any others?

She remembered Simon, her brother. She wished she could have married him. It would have been so very good. He understood her, loved her, better than anyone else.

She vaguely remembered Inara, who'd been kind to her. The rest were blurs. Who was "Mal"? Was "Mal" short for something? She wasn't sure.

Other names surfaced: Wash, Kaylee (Kay Lee?), Zoe (Zo E?) and someone named "Jayne." Odd name for a man, but…

But who were they?

For that matter, who was she?

…..

"How much further to your ship?"

"Not much further. That's the moonlet up there-*"

" _Attention Serenity. This is the Alliance Ship_ Vigilance _. I have you in my sights. Turn over the ones called 'River Tam' and 'John Smith,' and I have no further interest in you."_

"It's that bastard Operative," muttered Jayne. "I'd recognize that _wu hui de_ voice even in hell."

"We may be about two seconds away from hell," replied Mal. "So…" He looked around.

"You may turn me over," said John evenly, "but I will not surrender. I have to rescue River."

"Will you relax? I wasn't about to suggest turning you over. Wouldn't work, anyway. This bastard wouldn't honor any agreements, or he'd find a loophole. But does anybody have any ideas?"

"I have one," said John. "If we can get within two thousand klicks of my ship…I have something that may help."

"Right. You heard the ma-* Er, you heard John, Wash. Evasive." And the _Serenity_ began looping and diving.

 _Well,_ thought the Operative, _I suppose I couldn't have expected any other response. Pity._ And he readied weapons designed to disable the ship. After all, he wanted River Tam and John Smith _alive_ , not blown to space dust.

On board the _Serenity,_ John was fiddling with some controls in his shuttle. "What're you doing?" asked Kaylee. Machines just plain attracted her.

"I am attempting to initiate…a certain feature of my ship that, I hope, can be activated remotely. I only hope it has been repaired enough to function."

"What feature? You said your ship didn't have any weapons…."

"You will see. For now, just get ready, on my mark, to shut the _Serenity_ completely down. Everything. Including life support."

"Ohhhh," said Kaylee knowingly. "I see what you're about to do. And you got it." She disappeared back into the engine room.

 _Alright,_ thought the Operative. He'd given them enough time. He readied the EMP projectors…they should take out the ship's entire mechanical system. Then he could simply retrieve his objectives, and leave the rest for whatever fate they'd called down upon themselves.

Suddenly, the drive signatures of the _Serenity_ went completely blank. The ship was dead in the water, to use the ancient term. But he hadn't done anything….

In the next moment, his own ship was blasted by an EMP of enormous power. Sparks abounded, and consoles burst into flame. His ship's power went completely out…including life support.

They'd beat him to the punch, but how? The _Serenity_ didn't have that kind of power…

And here he was a long way from any Alliance help, and without communications to boot. Even his life support was compromised.

This could pose a serious complication.

…..

"You did it!" shouted Kaylee. "Wow! That ship of yours must be one powerful muther!"

"It serves its purpose. I only hope the star drive is repaired."

"What if it's not?"

"Then…I go it with just the space drive." He turned to Kaylee. "Kaylee, nothing will stop me from rescuing River from the Rrift. Nothing _must._ " He paused. "Then there is the matter of the Rrift presence here in your solar system. That cannot go unchallenged. Given only a little time, the Rrift will be well on their way to conquering this entire system. I do not think you would like that."

"Yeah, but, but what can you do about it? From what you've said, it's a Rrift armada!"

"I can do…what I can do." Something about the way he said that chilled her to the bone.

….

"So is this star drive of yours repaired?"

"Not completely. It will take us where we need to go, but not where I want to go."

"Where's that?"

"Home."

….

The Operative worked feverishly to repair at least the bare minimum of his ship. So far, he hadn't had much success.

He'd managed to get the life support back online, so he guessed that was good. But there was no propulsion. And no sensors worthy of the term. Since he was in the outskirts of an asteroid belt, that could pose a problem. He could just imagine his ship being rammed by an errant 'steroid.

 _Damn_ that alien! It _had_ to be his fault. He was better familiar with the schematics of the _Serenity_ than most of the crew. He knew it didn't possess any such capabilities.

Well, if he died, he'd die in the service of Mankind, trying to save lives, not take them. He knew about the alien incursion into the 'verse, and what their obvious goal was. His hope had been that he'd be able to combine Alliance technology with the tech of the alien, John Smith, and spread it across the 'verse. Without that, humans didn't have a chance against these invaders.

 _Damn_ John Smith, anyway!

In the midst of his silent cursing, he noticed the one single sensor he'd been able to repair beeping. Good. An Alliance vessel must have been in the area; he could get their help to repair his ship, and-*

And then his long-range sensors showed the silhouette of the ship. It was black and covered with spikes, much like a picture of a sea urchin he'd seen in ancient records from Earth, the planet the worlds of the 'verse had been populated from.

It was no human ship. It was no human ship at all.

Things had just gone from bad to the absolute worst they could possibly be.

…..

"Is _that_ your ship?" wondered Jayne. The rest of them were impressed, too.

"Yes. It is a converted mining and transport ship. Hence the size." He gazed at the ship proudly. "I got a good deal on an online auction." John's people didn't shrug, but he'd acquired the habit from the humans he associated with. "A friend of mine helped me fix it up."

Orbiting low around the moonlet was a large dumbbell shaped craft, either end being larger than the middle, which was half the width of the two ends and served as their connection. The sections on either end were wider towards the end than they were where they met the middle shaft. There was a hollow cavity running the entire length of the ship. "Yes," replied John. "I only hope, scooping so low to the moon, that it has found sufficient raw materials to fully repair the star drive."

"What if it hasn't? I mean, it's been in orbit. There isn't much up here," said Kaylee, fascinated by the alien vessel.

"Then I use it as it is. The fact that I was able to activate the electromagnetic pulse indicates the space drive, at least, is repaired enough to be operational."

Under his and Wash's control, they brought the _Serenity_ in closer. The ship was larger than they'd supposed, but John had explained to them how his people tended to overbuild. There was what looked like a large closed bay entrance ("Of course. For the storage of ores and goods.") near the middle of the ship, and he directed Wash to that area. "It may be big enough for the _Serenity._ If not, then we can attach the ship to the outside of mine."

"Is that possible?"

"Electromagnetics. That might even be better. Then you could detach easily." He paused, a very human gesture. "And you may have to. Swiftly."

….

They were able, barely, to get the _Serenity_ into the cargo bay. John blessed his people's tendency to overbuild; the bay had been designed for the transport of ores, even small asteroids. The _Serenity_ barely fit. "Good," he said, "this way, you're ship will be well within the protective fields of mine."

"What about your star drive?" asked Kaylee. She would've cheerfully given an arm to get a look at it.

"Not fully repaired. But the space drive is, and we can use that." He thought. "We can pass through the outskirts of that asteroid field, and perhaps scoop up enough raw materials to go a long ways towards repairing that, as well. Loose gravel…"

"John? I'm curious. When you were stranded before, you went looking for help. But your ship has this self-repair feature. Why did you need to go anywhere?"

"Truth? I had hoped to find a, a repair station. Something that would have sufficient raw material at the ready for the nanobot repair unit to repair my ship sooner. After all, the sooner it gets repaired, the sooner I can rescue River." Even as he spoke, he entered the coordinates for Miranda, with a side trip through the outskirts of the asteroid belt they'd previously hidden behind. "With luck, perhaps we can avoid these Alliance patrols. If not, we can probably outrun them. My ship's space drive is…a bit more efficient than the ones I've seen used by your people."

"So many things we could learn from you…" She was interrupted by Mal, just then coming onto the bridge. "John? How goes the repairs?"

"Quite well. There's a lot more gravel—high grade gravel, at that—here on the outskirts than I anticipated. It shouldn't be long before the star drive is operational.

"In the meantime, we are making good headway towards Miranda."

Mal shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe we're actually going back to Miranda." He shook his head once again, obviously changing his line of thinking. "So what will we do once we get there?"

Now _John_ shook _his_ head, a habit he'd picked up from humans. "I haven't made any firm plans beyond that, yet. Too much is unknown. We'll have to see-*" But his words were interrupted by a squeal too high for humans to hear. "This is…unusual. I am picking up a Rrift tachyonic broadcast. It seems to be coming from Miranda." He flipped a few switches…

"Hey, everybody," intercomm'd Mal, "Drop whatever you're doing and get up here. Pronto."

Soon, the entire crew was assembled on the bridge. Jayne was in an especially foul mood; he'd just been torn away from some "quality literature," as he called it. Mal grinned; he knew what kind of "quality literature" Jayne was so fond of. "Your girly books will still be there for you later. But for now we got us a situation. John?"

"Yes, I'm getting the 'cast." The screen came alive, showing a group of Rrift standing around a large bonfire, in a deserted area of the planet.

Two Rrift came up, bringing a struggling, enraged Reaver between them. The leader grabbed the creature in his two left arms, and, with one swift movement, gouged its eyes out. Then he threw it into the circle they'd formed. The circle with the bonfire at its center.

Mal had a sick sensation that he knew what was coming next.

The Reaver screamed again, in pain and rage, and charged out into the circle. Two Rrift caught it and shoved it back into the middle of the circle, throwing it directly into the fire.

Another scream, and the Reaver rolled out of the flames, again charging blindly at the perimeter. Again, two Rrift caught it and threw it back into the fire. They kept on doing so, the Reaver beginning to show signs of injury and fatigue, until several Rrift got some long wooden poles and held the creature in the blaze, watching as it screamed and burned. Finally, it ceased moving, the flames consuming it…

" _Deus,_ " said Jayne, "I never thought I'd feel sorry for a _Reaver_." The rest were too horrified to say anything. John had told them about the Rrift, but to see them in action…

On the screen, the leader Rrift and another were seemingly conversing. "What're they saying?" asked Mal.

"You don't want to know."

"Yes I do. What're they saying?"

John sighed. He wished he hadn't synched into this particular broadcast; it made him all the more conscious of what River might be going through. "The first one, the leader, asked the other, 'how long?' The other, a subordinate, replied, more or less, 'fifty-nine minutes.' The leader replied, 'Disappointing. I had hoped these creatures would be more durable. They'd make good cannon fodder, if they could be properly controlled.' Then, he asked, 'how many are in the confinement cells?' 'Fifty-six,' replied the subordinate. Understand," said John, looking around at them, "I'm having to translate their terminology and numerical system into your language.

"The leader then said, 'select seven more at random and test them similarly. If they prove no more resilient than this one, dispose of the lot. But first, see if they can be hacked. And if not, then see if they're edible. We might at least get a meal out of them, if nothing else.'" So saying, he closed down the vidscreens.

Nobody said a word for several minutes. Such cold-bloodedness…even the Reavers, at least, had the excuse of being crazy.

"You're right," said Wash, speaking up for the first time. "We _didn't_ want to know."

…..

"Oooh, John," Kaylee moaned, "put it in me. Go on, put it in me now…the tail, too!" Kaylee's face and breasts were flushed from the exertion…and what had led to that exertion. She'd already finished a little experiment of hers. He deliberately hadn't shifted to his human form, at her request.

Being a metamorph (though he stressed there were limitations to what he could do in that regards), he could harden his scales, make them more impervious to attack…or soften them, for another reason that she was finding extraordinarily pleasant right then. Rubbing herself against his softened scales was a _fantastic_ experience!

And with four arms, he could not only hold her in some interesting ways, but do some…even more interesting things with those arms not in use.

And the tail…

The tail was _fantastic!_

Now she was calling on him to make use of that organ that seemed to be universal equipment in males throughout the cosmos. "Yes-s, go on, put it in me…put it in me hard!"

"Kaylee? Kaylee!" She snapped awake, to find herself in the quarters on board John's ship, in her bed, straddling a soft pillow. John was standing at the door, looking both puzzled and worried. "You weren't answering your 'comm. We're coming up on Miranda. Mal thought you and Wash might be needed in the _Serenity_ , in case we need to boost it out of the cargo bay at top speed." He looked at her, noting her flushed face and body, her stance over the pillow. "Are you alright? You look a little feverish."

"I'm…alright." _I was about to be a lot more alright, at least in my dream. Lot to be said for human-alien sex…_ "Let me get dressed, and I'll head on down that way."

He turned to go, but then hesitated, looking back at her. "Kaylee? I don't mean to get too personal, but one thing I've always wondered, and was never able to find much reliable information on. If I might ask, what are those…protuberances on your upper torso?"

"These?" She ran her hands over her breasts. "You mean these? They're for providing nourishment for…er, that is, they, they're filled with mankind's hopes and dreams." _That's kinda true, in a way._

She hadn't thought it was possible, but John's midnight-black eyes seemed to get larger. "Indeed? Then, I must make a mental note. We must all take special care that nothing happens to them. It would definitely not do for mankind's hopes and dreams to be damaged in some way.

"Thank you for telling me that. I had no idea."

…

Caliban: Miranda's one single moon. "I am sure there is a Rrift contingent in the area," said John. "We may be able to conceal ourselves behind the moon, especially if we keep very close to its surface."

"How long until your ship is fully repaired?" Mal was sitting in what would be the co-pilot's seat, very uncomfortably. It was designed, after all, for the different Geshen anatomy… He noticed Zoe, sitting at attention in another seat, close by the communications setup, didn't seem to be fidgeting as much as he was. But that was Zoe; even if she were uncomfortable, she'd never show it.

"It should not be much longer."

" _Say_ ," said Wash, his voice coming over the connected 'comm line. They'd rigged wired communications links so that their conversations didn't get "leaked" out into space. Even if the Rrift had been unable to decipher such wireless internal communications, just the fact that such comm traffic was there in the first place would have told them way too much. " _What, exactly, is your ship's name, anyway?"_ Somehow, it had never come up.

"It doesn't have one. My people don't have that custom. My ship has string of registry numbers, combined with letters of our alphabet, to designate its identity."

" _We gotta change that_ ," said Kaylee's voice, also over the 'comm. " _A ship without a name? That's bad luck."_

"'Bad luck'?"

" _Yeah, bad luck. How 'bout 'Traveler'? Or…'Sojourner'?"_

"I've an idea," said Shepherd Book. "Since you came from so far away, carrying the message you did, about the Rrift, what about something to do with angels? That's what the word 'angel' originally meant, after all: messenger. You could call it, say, _Angel One."  
_

"'Angel One,'" mused John. "I rather like it. And it fits, somehow."

Kaylee's amused voice came over the 'comm line. _"Hm. Bet I can pillow-talk you into_ _my_ _suggestion."_

A disgusted-looking Jayne turned to Mal "You _do_ realize," he said, "that you have one sick puppy-ette in the engine room of your ship, right?"

Mal sighed. "I know. But she's good at her job."

"I hear she's good at _all_ her jobs…"

"Excuse me," broke in John, "But what did Kaylee mean by 'pillow talk'? Pillows can't talk. Or is this some human technology I'm unfamiliar with?"

"Never mind," said Mal. Jayne turned away to hide a grin; he noticed a small smile on Zoe's face, as well. "That's just Kaylee talking. You know Kaylee; she…talks a lot."

…

Miranda: Unlike the last time they'd been here, there didn't appear to be any Reaver ships in the space around the planet-moon system. No functional ones, anyway. Most were in bits and pieces.

But some were not. It was those that disturbed John the most. There were no indications of life on any of the intact ships.

But there _most definitely was_ indication of life on the single black, spiky Rrift ship that swung around the moon, and zeroed in on them.

 _To be continued…_

 _Hopefully._

….


	6. Chapter 6: Infiltration

Firefly: the Geshen Wars: Chapter 6: Infiltration

…

 _I don't own the Firefly franchise, but I sure wish I did. The animated series would really rock._

…

Chapter 6: Infiltration

"Everybody, strap in!" shouted Mal. "This could get rough!" All those assigned to the bridge jumped to get into their seats, and pulled the straps tightly. The seats themselves were designed with inertial control fields, but their ability was limited, and could not be guaranteed to dampen all the effects of sharp maneuvers. The others ran for their assigned seats…Mal knew that Wash and Kaylee, down in the _Serenity_ , would also be strapping in as best and as fast as they could. "Wash, you may need to boost out. Be ready."

The Rrift ship was closing rapidly. John had told them that his ship, while it had a higher maximum velocity than the Rrift vessels, took longer to get up to that speed. But the Rrift ships were powered by a reaction drive. It made them faster in the short run. The Rrift ships, designed for war, were designed to reach top speed rapidly. Given time, he could outrun a Rrift ship…but the Rrift were unlikely to give him that time.

And his ship had no weapons.

"Wash? Are you and Kaylee secured?"

" _Yeah. Do what you gotta do."_ And John punched several controls, pulling out a few extruding crystals, activating deeper elements of the ship's drive.

The _Angel One_ jerked into motion, heading straight for the moon. Just before impact, it swerved, and only the compensators prevented the crew from being torn to shreds. As it was, they were flung about in their seats, straining against the straps. "Uh!" grunted Mal. Zoe grimaced, but made no sound.

John said nothing, though he, too, had been flung against the restraints. Privately, he hoped Kaylee was alright. She must be a very responsible individual, after all, to be selected to carry all of mankind's hopes and dreams about with her. He made a note to himself, the first chance he got, to 'comm her and make sure she and her precious cargo were still intact.

Another swerve, as he pulled up from a mountain range. The Rrift ship followed, not firing, but closing rapidly. It seemed to know its quarry had no weapons.

John thought furiously. He had to come up with something before the warship opened fire. There had to be something on his ship…

Okay. There was one thing, but it was extremely risky. The ship's space drive functioned off an electromagnetic traction field, that worked on the very fabric of space-time itself. For his plan to work, he'd have to let the Rrift ship get in very close…

He dodged over another mountain range. These lunar ranges were higher than those of planets; that would help.

The Rrift ship had made no broadcasts, no signals indicating an intruder. They clearly wanted this kill for themselves.

Closer, closer…the Rrift ship was no further than a few ship-length's behind them…and he pulled and twisted the emergency power spike.

Power from the engine flowed into the space drive. He directed it rearward, a tactic used in mining ships when they needed to move a large mass, an asteroid, that wouldn't fit into the cargo hold. The traction field gripped the Rrift ship…and pulled it along with the speeding _Angel One._

 _Now_ the enemy vessel realized its danger, and his sensors showed it powering up its weapons. They hadn't done so before, evidently intending to come alongside and board…

But even with advanced Geshen technology, the laws of physics, particularly those of mass and momentum, held true. He drove the ship at top speed straight at the next mountain range.

Just before impact, he once again pulled up, the mountainside spinning in a dizzying view as the ship climbed upward, g-forces pressing them all into their seats despite the compensators, no more than a few meters from the surface of the mountain…dragging the Rrift ship with it, as if the enemy ship were on a long, invisible rope…then he shrank the drive field back to just enough to enclose his ship.

The Rrift warship slammed into the mountain at a speed even its shields couldn't protect it from. It exploded in an expanding cloud of fire and debris, some pieces even hitting the Geshen vessel's own shields. But those shields held against such undirected strikes, and the _Angel One_ ascended into the starry sky.

John, however, held his breath…there could be more Rrift ships up here. But the sensors didn't indicate any…"Kaylee? Are you alright?"

" _Y-yeah, John. I, er, we're alright. Uhm, Wash and me, I mean."_ She realized she was on a public 'comm channel. _"Everything's fine."_ She held _her_ breath, hoping he wouldn't say any more about _why_ he was so worried. It would be…kinda awkward.

"It pleases me to hear that you are alright. My sensors do not show any other Rrift ship in the area. Do not unstrap yourselves just yet, though. Not until I am sure there is no danger." He cut the 'comm channel. "I would not want mankind's hopes and dreams to be damaged," he muttered.

"Huh?"

"Nothing, Mal." He breathed a slight sigh of relief. Mankind's hopes and dreams were safe. For now, at least. "I was merely…talking to myself, I guess."

There proved to be no more Rrift vessels in the area, which actually troubled John. Given their dedication to this invasion, there should be more. He hoped they weren't elsewhere in the 'verse.

But without any apparent danger, his original agenda of rescuing River came to the fore. "We can take the shuttle to the surface. But first…perhaps we should go over some plans."

…..

"You've. Gotta. Be. Freakin'. CRAZY!" said Jayne. "There is _no way_ -*"

"Jayne, it is necessary. Surely you know that not all plans involve pleasant scenarios. And surely you see the necessity of this course of action."

The others were too shocked to say anything. What John was proposing…. "Mal? You are leader of this group. I can only advise. What say you?"

Mal shook his head. He knew Zoe would follow him to the grave and beyond, if she could. But the others? "Yeah, but you're talking about rescuing _Reavers._ In case you forgot, they're a bit of a problem for us."

"I do not suggest rescue as you mean it. But as long as the Rrift have these _Reavers_ to experiment on, the more they will know about humanity in general. I know you, Jayne, do not believe Reavers to be human. But they are, in all essentials. What I am saying is, they must be rendered…unusable to the Rrift."

"Killed, you mean."

"I am sure they would not accept your offer of a ride. But their bodies must also be destroyed beyond recovery."

" _That_ notion I can get behind," muttered Jayne. The entire crew knew of Jayne's feelings towards the savage Reavers.

"All right," said Mal. "You," he indicated Jayne, "are in charge of that part of the operation. Simon, you're with us. You may be needed, depending on what condition River is in. Kaylee-*"

"Kaylee must stay here." _Oh, no,_ thought the petite engineer, nervously, _he's about to spill the breasts…_

"Too right. She and Wash must maintain a state of readiness. Inara…" He paused. "Can you, you think, operate the controls of John's ship?"

"She can, with help," said John, before Inara could reply.

"What sort of help?"

John went over to a small shelf with a protruding spike over it. He pulled the black crystal, twisted it, and replaced it in the slot. A drawer opened up to reveal a number of disks arrayed neatly in plastoid slots. He selected one, and handed it to Inara. "Here. Place this on your temple, on your skin."

"What is it?"

"It is…an optical adjuster. You will be able to see the spectrums of light as I perceive them. Do not be concerned; it will not harm you. Once you remove it, you will return to your original optical state."

Inara hesitated, looked at Mal, who nodded. With some reluctance, she placed the disk on her right temple.

Almost immediately, she saw the _colors_ of the ship, that each and every one of the seemingly-black spikes were all of different colors, and the control panel had far more controls that she'd been able to see before. "Yesss…I see. But how will I know what does what?

He turned to the panel. "I will arrange the controls so that they convey a depiction of the action you wish to perform." And so saying, he pressed several previously invisible buttons, pulled and twisted some now-brightly colored spikes.

Now Inara could see, hovering in the air just above each control, the action depressing that control, pulling and twisting that spike, would produce. Here was one for locking the bay doors. Here was one for activating the drive, and another for regulating the speed. There were still some whose actions she had trouble perceiving, but she could now control and fly the ship. "Alright. I…guess I'm ready."

John equipped them with Geshen weapons, which resembled very large bore shotguns. "They produce a wave packet that is inconsistent with life," he explained. "And they are quiet. That will work to our advantage."

"Ain't satisfyin' if it don't go bang," grumbled Jayne, as he hefted the unfamiliar weapon.

"I'll try to find you an unpopped balloon."

….

John, Mal, and Simon kept to the shadows in the destroyed building. The Reavers hadn't been long on building, except for the half-constructed buildings where they designed and built their weapons, and maintained the ships they'd acquired. And the Rrift apparently hadn't taken to building very many of their own constructions yet. John peeked around a corner, sniffing the air. He tried to make a mental connection with River, but couldn't. He hoped that only meant she was beyond his detection range. Knowing the Rrift…

A party of drones came around the far corner, clacking and hissing amongst themselves. Every so often, one, of slightly higher standing, would cuff another, its sharp claws often leaving black-blooded scars. John knew the Rrift Elite frequently had the drones fight for their amusement, so he was not surprised to see that, even in what appeared to be their "off" time, they still maintained a level of viciousness. Of course. Rrift drones were virtually incapable of being anything else.

And, he saw, all of them were equipped with side arms, as well as bladed weapons of various savage-looking design. That, too, was an "of course." An unarmed Rrift? Not hardly. "Mal, Simon, get ready." And he dodged out into the hallway, throwing himself on the floor, his gun already zeroing in on the lead drone. Mal and Simon opened fire from behind the concealment of their corner.

Caught by surprise, the drones nonetheless drew their own weapons. The Geshen guns went _chuff! Chuff! Chuff!_ As each invisible packet hit, a Rrift went down. But their own weapons—laser-sighted but also producing an invisible effect—rained among the attackers.

John, lying prone on the floor, presented a smaller target. The Rrift weapons did not throw up shrapnel when they hit, but he could feel the vibration in the air as several passed by him. He targeted the remaining drones, his gun _chuff_ ing out its deadly payload.

A numbness hit his left leg, and he threw himself to the other side, instinctively rolling out of the Rrift's zone of fire. The sole remaining Rrift drone went down underneath a flurry of shots from Mal and Simon.

Mal approached the fallen Geshen, who was sitting up, grasping his leg. "You alright?" There was no obvious sign of injury.

"Yes. I caught the edge of the weapon's packet." He rubbed the leg some more. "Unless the wavicle packets hit a major area, the damage is usually non-fatal." They both heard a slight emphasis on the word, "usually."

"Can I do anything?" asked Simon. "I mean, I don't know anything about your biology..."

"I will be fine. My kind are fast healers, anyway." He climbed to his shaky feet, using his tail to help him balance. Simon marveled at that; he hadn't suspected the tail could be used in such a manner. It usually hung suspended from the Geshen's lower back, curving before it reached the floor, but it was clearly prehensile. _That's a useful feature evolution gifted them with._ "But now, I have something to show you." And he limped over to one of the fallen Rrift drones.

He reached into a pouch suspended from his heatsuit, where the belt would be, had he been wearing one. Inside was a black goo. He reached his hand into it, and drew some of it forth. It formed itself into a wickedly-sharp looking blade made of some black substance. "Observe." He knelt down by the fallen drone, and, using the black-bladed knife, began to slice open its head.

The knife went in easily, far more easily than any human-designed blade would have, cleaving through the tough scales, flesh, and bone of the drone's head. He cut in an oblong around its head, then lifted the portion he'd cut off, the Rrift's black blood spilling onto the floor. "I would not let that touch you, were I you."

"Why? Is it toxic?"

"No. Just nasty."

He lifted the cap of skull completely off, and, with the blade of the knife, pointed to a small, wrinkled, dark colored mass. "That is a Rrift brain. These are only drones, so it is underdeveloped, and deliberately so. The Rrift Elite have genetically modified a portion of their population into virtually mindless killing machines." He looked up at the humans. "Those Rrift you saw in the transmission…those were the Elite. In them, the brain would be substantially larger. However…" And here he turned his attention back to fallen Rrift, "observe." And he reached in and lifted out the brain, snapping its neural connections easily. He held it up to them, turning it over, upside down.

On the underside was what appeared to be a small faceted crystal orb, less than an inch in diameter, made of some red semi-transparent substance. "This is why you cannot reason with the Rrift. This is a, a symbiote, perhaps is the best term, that all Rrift have. It functions very simply. As long as the Rrift obeys the dictates of the Elite, they receive a feeling of pleasure. Should they act in any manner the Elite would consider inconsistent with their orders, they receive a huge jolt of what I suppose you might call anxiety, perhaps depression. So you cannot reason with a Rrift; they are literally hardwired to obey."

Mal thought. "You know, if we could get some kinda handle on that…maybe we could turn it against them."

"You would not be the first to think that, Malcolm Reynolds. But unfortunately, the symbiote is semi-sentient. It knows when you are trying to control it. And it resists.

"But I felt you should know this." He got up, no longer limping. "Now…to find River. I doubt, however, that she is in this ruined building." He paused, and Mal recognized that as a sign of contemplation on the alien's part. Unpleasant contemplation. "I am almost certain she is in some far more recent and well-defended edifice. However…the Rrift presence here…may lead us to her."

…..

Light-years away: the Geshen commando squad had placed their nano-bombs precisely, just so. They wanted it to look like an accident with the programming of the nanos the Rrift were already manufacturing…that might not fool the ever-suspicious Rrift…but then again, it might.

Moving to the extraction point, they completely failed to see the faint glimmer of something neither organic nor natural watching them, steadily, from the concealment of a small, ragged bush.

Not that there was much they could have done about it if they had. But at least, they might have been warned…

 _To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7: Matters of Grave Importance

Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift: Chapter 7: Matters of Grave Importance

….

 _I don't own the Firefly franchise, of course. Surely you didn't think I did?_

… _.._

Chapter 7: Matters of Grave Importance

"To your left!" Mal's voice carried the sting of command, and both Zoe and Simon shifted their guns to cover the oncoming Rrift automatically. John maintained his current field of fire, which turned out to be a good thing, as more Rrift emerged from the alcove to the right.

"Mal!" he shouted, "we cannot maintain this! We must fall back!"

"To what?" Mal, Zoe, and John were engaging a Rrift drone patrol at one of the largest of the noticeable Rrift structures, one that John thought likely to contain River. "You got an idea?"

"If we cannot fall back, we must fall forward."

"Hey, I'm willing if you are!" Charge into certain death? Well, it was certain death to stay here… "You got anything in that magic pouch of yours?"

"I might have." John began fumbling about in his belt pouch…

….

The Rrift world had ceased to communicate with the Rrift High Command. The Elite Rrift, an Exalted Master, approached the supervisor in charge of communications. "Well?" he asked.

"Nothing, sire. We have tried to establish contact in every way we can. Nothing. They do not respond."

"Why would they not respond?" The supervisor was supposed to know these things.

"Unknown, sire." He felt his superior's gaze, and shifted uncomfortably. "We tm'd a local warship in that area, to go see why they have not responded."

"And?"

"At 0300 _owerans_ , we lost communication with that warship."

The Elite thought. That was most unusual, and highly irregular. It bespoke of enemy activity… "Have you any intel on Geshen activities in that area?"

"None lately, sire. The last incident was nearly a _yaron_ ago. It was easily repulsed."

"Ssss. Or they wished us to think it was easily repulsed. I am…concerned about this matter, supervisor. I will give the orders for another Rrift ship to go to this world, perhaps tell us more. But I will have them remain in real-time contact with you the entire way. Should this ship also fall silent, I will want to know why."

….

The Rrift warship, known only by its number-letter combination, approached the world in question. Its captain, also an Elite, had his orders to remain in constant communication with the home base.

Of course, it was not lost on him that the reason for this was that, should a similar event occur to his vessel, there would be a running communication right up to that point. His ship—and crew—were considered expendable, in the pursuit of information.

Actually, though he wasn't happy about it, he saw the wisdom in this arrangement. Assuming some fate befell his ship, it was vital that High Command have what information they could glean from their last moments. All Rrift, even the Elite, were programmed by their symbiotes, their whole culture, to consider themselves expendable. If his death and the death of his crew could serve the Elite, then he would do it, regardless. "Sensors. What have you to report?"

"Nothing yet, sire," the communications officer said. He might not have been so happy about this arrangement, but his own mind and will were locked into the Rrift command structure, and he would obey without question. "We should be coming within direct sensor range of the planet in three…two…one…there it is, sire." And the blue-white globe was displayed upon their viewscreens. "Activating long range sensor sweep now."

No planet appeared on the screen. "I thought you said we passed the asteroid belt farther out."

"We…did, sire. This is a new develop-*" At that exact moment, both Rrift's eyes widened as they saw the image displayed on the long-range screen.

"Helm! Get us out of here! _Now!_ " The Rrift captain knew he was, technically disobeying orders, but the alternative…

The Rrift warship came about full, and the helm officer punched in the codes to initiate an emergency-speed course for the outer reaches of the system, preparatory to star drive…

He wasn't quite fast enough.

"Supervisor?"

"Exalted Master…" The live feed from the Rrift warship had simply broken off, just as the ship had initiated long-range sensor sweep. "I…we have lost contact. I cannot understand why."

"Can you not?" The Exalted Master and his symbiote briefly considered punishing the supervisor for his apparent failure, but then considered. Perhaps the supervisor had not been in error. After, he himself had been there the entire time, ever since the Rrift ship had entered the system, and he had detected no error on the part of the supervisor. "What was the last thing transmitted from our ship?"

Without replying, the supervisor shifted the view to a recording of the last known feed from the warship. A starfield came up on the screen, the far stars unwinking. _Like eyes,_ thought the Exalted Master, _the eyes of some great predator._ The Rrift were not without their own myths and legends. "Is that the system's asteroid field? I thought they were further within."

"They were, sire." And over the comm channel, they both could hear the ship's captain asking his own nav officer the same thing. Then, the image winked out, to be replaced by static.

"Wait," said the supervisor, and the Exalted Master bridled, slightly. This unascended one dared tell _him_ to wait? But he exercised the control that had brought him to his station, and waited. There would be time for punishment later. "Wait, sire." And the supervisor ran the recording back a bit, to where it showed the last images from the warship.

The asteroid field they were flying through was particularly thick at this point. The smaller asteroids easily bouncing off the shields, while the helm officer easily evaded the larger ones. Then the field cleared…and there was the briefest of brief screen caps of what was on the other side…

The Exalted Master saw, and completely forgot about any punishment detail for the uppity supervisor. In typical Rrift fashion, he showed no sign of distress, surprise, or another other emotion, but merely stared momentarily. Then, to the supervisor, "Contact the Home world. Use my authentication code, send that screen capture to High Command.

"We have a problem."

…

Miranda: "Get ready!" And John pulled something out of his belt, throwing it onto the floor at the Rrifts' feet.

The black goo, whatever it was, immediately spread out, covering the floor. The oncoming drones instantly lost their footing, falling over one another, their weapons' fire going wild. "Come on!" John charged out into the very midst of the goo-covered floor, firing as he went.

"Hey, wait up!" Mal and the others ventured to the edge of the goo, but hesitated on going any further. "What's gonna keep us from-*"

"Just come on!" John's voice urged them as he shot around the corner.

Mal and Zoe shot questioning looks at each other. Then, almost in unison, they both shrugged. Staying here certainly wasn't helping.

Out into the black goo they ran. Oddly, their own feet seemed to find their normal traction, and they even were able to fire their Geshen weapons at the downed Rrift drones. Considering the wild firing of the hissing drones, it was a miracle none of them were hit.

They hit the non-goo covered area behind the drones and raced around the same corner as John had. John himself was just rounding another corner in the distance, firing as he went. For a non-combatant, thought Mal, he certainly seemed sure of himself.

John had described himself as "an ordinary Geshen civilian," leading Mal to wonder if _all_ Geshen received some martial training. After all, they were a race at war. He was reminded of his Old Earth legends of a place called _Israel_ , where many "civilians" were no stranger to some military training, due to being surrounded by enemies on all sides. Perhaps John's civilization was like that.

Another corner rounded. They caught up with John, who was backed up against a wall, in a small alcove, weapon pointed at the ceiling, his tail wrapped around his legs, the tip lashing back and forth in what looked like a worried manner to the humans. " _Sss,"_ he said, motioning them for silence. There was another lip to the corridor beyond on the other side of the wall; Zoe had, with the skill born of long, hard-won experience, backed into it, soundless as a shadow. "On my mark, move into the center of the corridor, and hit the floor."

"What? Why…?"

"You'll see." With that, he leaped straight up into an accessway the others hadn't seen, squirming into it, his tail disappearing last. "Go now!" And he disappeared into the ceiling. The humans stared a moment, wondering if the Geshen had abandoned them… "Go! I will rejoin you down the corridor! And don't look back!" Mal and the others slammed themselves onto the floor, just in time to see a squad of Rrift coming down the same corridor. Mal heard a mechanical hissing sound behind him, dared to glance behind, and felt his blood run cold. Back in the lips they'd hidden behind, jets of supercold liquid were spraying out, dousing their former hiding places. _Never mind for now. Ask later._ He joined Zoe and Simon in firing at the Rrift coming at them. These Rrift seemed different from the others; they actually seemed to know some combat tactics. The other Rrift they'd encountered seemed to depend on overwhelming them with sheer numbers, but these flattened themselves on the floor the same way the humans had, firing in return. Their shots hummed past them.

Suddenly, a panel in the ceiling behind them gave way, and John dropped down, already firing into the Rrift's backs. Like the crew of the _Serenity_ , he lay flat on the ground, presenting a smaller target. The Rrift struggled to turn, unsure whether to meet the threat behind them, until their racial hatred of the Geshen asserted itself, and they began to squirm into positions enabling them to fire at John.

But one did not. He continued to fire at the humans, his shots humming past the humans. Simon jumped to one side, letting out a surprised and pained exclamation as the edge of a Rrift wave packet caught the end of his foot.

Mal and Zoe were already rolling to either side, and neither could bring their weapons to bear on the still-firing Rrift, who showed no signs of letting up. _Get this one, John,_ thought Mal, even as he rolled into position, hoping he wasn't too late to spare one of the others. He noticed some peculiar movement down the corridor past the Rrift as he rolled…but the Rrift had quit firing and lay perfectly still, his gun aimed squarely at Mal, who fired anyway. Nothing happened. The Rrift did not move or return fire. Instead it just lay staring with dull malevolence straight at Mal, who could see right down the large bore of its gun. "Could'a sworn I hit him," muttered Mal, even as he rolled out of the way, already readying another salvo. He took time to notice that the other Rrift had already ceased firing, evidently victims of John's own surprise attack plus their own.

"You did," said John, rising to his feet, "the second time. But I hit him the first." He bent down and pulled a long brown spike out of the back of the Rrift's head. "With this. He was quite dead by the time you shot him. Sorry if I deprived you of the kill."

"As long as you deprived _him_ of a kill, I'm good. What'd you do? Is that a Geshen throwing knife?"

"In a manner of speaking." He held up his tail, and they noticed several similar spikes, half concealed in the tip. Now Mal remember the odd movement he'd seen down the corridor…John flipping his tail up like a scorpion…

"You didn't tell us your tail was spring-loaded!"

"I thought you knew!"

He looked around, noting Simon still clutching his foot. Mal, Zoe, and John ran over to him. "John?"

"He evidently caught a wave packet." The Geshen bent down to examine the wound. He pulled Simon's boot off, carefully scrutinizing the toes of Simon's foot, which had turned a pale white. "He should be alright. Had the hit been over a larger area, he might have permanently lost full function in that foot, if not the whole leg. As it is, a little exercise ought to restore function. How does it feel?" he asked.

"Numb. No paresthesia, even. Just numb."

"You should be okay. Do you have a first aid kit on you? Mine aren't designed for humans."

"Uh, y-yeah. Why?"

"You might want to give yourself a steroid injection. That should promote healing."

"Good idea." And he began fumbling with his medical pouch, which he'd deliberately overstocked, in fear of what the Rrift might have done to River.

Mal straightened up, as did John. Zoe was already up and covering the corridors with her gun. "Thought you'd left us there, for a minute."

"I did. Oh, you mean deserted? No, I would not do that, Malcolm Reynolds. My people do not do that, nor desert others in combat or in need. It would be…depressing." He helped Simon to his feet, put two left arms around him to steady him, even as he maintained control of his weapon with the two right ones. "Can you walk?"

"If I can't, you guys go on ahead. Find River. Don't worry about me."

"No," said John, even as Mal was opening his mouth to say the same. "We will not leave you. That would not be civilized behavior. And in any case," and Mal could swear the alien's face quirked in a smile, "I would not dare face my mistress, having left her brother. My life would not be worth…what is the expression, Mal? 'The power to blow me away'?"

"Close enough. C'mon, Simon. Quit making like the Lone Hero here. Either we all go home…

"…or none of us go home."

Both John and Zoe nodded simultaneously.

….

Mal looked at John. "Where to, now?"

John sniffed the air, his snout rising, turning one way, then another. "I am unsure. I cannot catch her scent with the air circulators in operation."

They ran down a cleared corridor towards what appeared to be doors inset into the walls. "Here." John looked at the controls on the door. "She is probably being held either here or in a place very much like here." He examined the pad outside the door in question. "This looks to be some sort of command center. Be ready." He began to fiddle with the flat, blank plate outside the door. "It will probably be heavily defended."

"Our usual luck…by the way, what was that with the walls, anyway?"

"Typical Rrift mentality. Any potential hiding place is booby-trapped. For obvious reasons. In fact, those alcoves were most probably deliberately designed into the building as a trap for any...uninvited guests. That is why I suggested vacating them as soon as we did."

" _Deus_. Are they _that_ paranoid?"

"To a Rrift, that is their normal state of mind. Here." He fumbled with the controls on a larger door. "Get ready."

The door _swished_ back, and they fell through, guns at the ready…but there was nobody in the room. "Hm. This is most odd," said John. He looked around the room. It was larger than the ones they'd seen earlier, and obviously some sort of command center…but there was nobody in the room. John went over to a console, fiddled with the controls. "This won't be easy. There are several layers of encryption, but I believe I can get past them, if I have enough time."

"Yeah, well, great, but…where is everybody? I mean, this place oughtta be crawling with-*"

"I know, and I am mystified as well. Something must be…wrong. Something big, that would command the full attention of the Rrift Elite." He paused. Then, in a much lower voice, "Very wrong, indeed." He turned to the crew. "Those were Rrift Elite in the corridor we just left. As you saw, they were much more intelligent than their 'cannon fodder,' using tactics. But it is not good tactics to leave a control center such as this unmanned. Unless…" John's eyes grew wide. "Unless something is commanding the attention of _all_ the Rrift. But…that would have to be something of a cosmic magnitude…"

"John," Zoe spoke up for the first time, "that's all very well and good, but maybe we should be making good use of that whatever? You said you could crack that encryption…" Mal grinned. That was Zoe: _Focus_ Incarnate.

"Oh, yes. Yes, I can. Thank, you, Zoe, for bringing me back from my…deliberations." He sat in one of the peculiar Rrift chairs, which, since the Rrift were physically similar to him, fit him well.

Mal came over to his side. The controls were completely unfamiliar to him. "Think you can crack the codes?"

"I am reasonably sure." John paused, even as he continued to scan the, to him, alien layout of the controls. "In my youth, I, uhm, engaged in some, shall we say, less than completely sociable behavior. I was an unlawful infiltrator of private and encrypted data files.'"

Mal thought about that with another slow grin. Zoe had taken up position at the door, battle ready, and motioned for Simon to do likewise. "You're kidding. You, a hacker?" The prim and proper John Smith? Hilarious.

"Well, until I got caught, at least. But I was, uhm, rather good at it, if I do say so myself."

"Of course, you gave all that up once the authorities caught up with you."

"Er, wellllllll…"

"Riiiiiight." The legacy of a misspent youth. _Haven't we all been there?_

"Let me see." He pressed some control buttons, and moved his clawed hands over some panels that looked completely blank to Mal. Then he placed his claws in several slots…but not for long. Soon, several lights lit up, and he pressed down on some seemingly blank places on the platen. The lights began to flash more. "I think I can hack into their system enough to find out where prisoners are being held. But I'll need time."

Mal turned to Zoe. "Can you hold that position?"

"Roger that, sir." Simon indicated equal readiness. He was worried sick about his sister.

He'd seen how the Rrift treated their experimental subjects.

"Do what you can. We'll hold on as long as we can. But getting out of here may pose a problem. Say," the thought occurred to him, "just what was it you threw at those drones that made 'em slip all over the place?" He leaned over the console John was working on, and the Geshen had to wave him off of an important (but invisible to him) control button.

"Er, that was," John was trying to concentrate on the controls, "that was some nanobot replicators. Mostly unprogrammed, they began to make more of what they first came into contact with: the floor. Their activity made it impossible for the Rrift drones to maintain their footing."

"But how could we get through them?"

"They were programmed to avoid Geshen. Standard programming for all but medical nanobots. Now, if you would…"

"Oh. Right." John hit several more controls. "Yesss…I believe I can find it…" He paused, then pulled out a protruding black crystal, twisted it, and reinserted it. "There." Figures began to scroll across a screen, alien characters rapidly changing, moving… "There. I have located her. And, Fates be praised, she is not far from us. But," his tone of voice, alien though it was, turned clearly dark, "I see where she is scheduled for hacking."

"Hacking?" Computers? How did that figure into-*

"Brain hacking. Essentially turning her into a biological robot, in order, I imagine, to harness her fighting skills. Or something. That, of course, I cannot allow."

"Well, _yeah_. You say she's close by?"

"Yes. And guarded by…" he paused while computing the alien numbers into human ones, "…around fifty-seven drones. And five Elite. Give or take ten."

"Hell, those're better odds that we usually get."

 _To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8: Myths and Legends

Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift: Chapter 8: Myths and Legends

….

 _I don't own the Firefly franchise, I guess I should say. Surely no-one reading this thinks I do, do you?_

…

Chapter 8: Myths and Legends

Jayne made his way very carefully through the ruined buildings. He'd only been here once, and then, his only worries—ha! "Only"!—had been the Reavers. But now he was on the lookout for something more dangerous.

John had told him that the Rrift tended to randomize their patrols, not adhering to any one schedule. _Well, of course not. That would make things way too easy._ While Jayne loved a good fight as much as the next man, getting caught with your pants down by the enemy wasn't his idea of the way to go about things.

Speaking of… He found a secluded spot, one that was easily defensible, and, after making sure there were no threats evident in the area, unzipped and relieved himself. John had told him that his kind had an exceptionally keen sense of smell…perhaps, just perhaps, this might throw any pursuers off his trail, providing he hustled to another location in time.

John's ship's sensors had detected what he'd thought to be the holding area for the remaining Reavers. At least, he'd detected a group of warm-blooded creatures in one isolated pocket, separate from the others. Geshen and Rrift alike being cold-blooded, those readings would indicate the only other mammalian presence on the map.

Of course, he reasoned with himself, even as he rounded another corner, throwing himself up against the wall, that didn't mean what was being held there were _Reavers_. It could just be some other form of exothermic life. Hell, could even be humans the Rrift had captured somehow, somewhere. But this was _Miranda;_ the odds were against it.

Not for the first time, he wondered about the Geshen's (or, as the word was more properly pronounced, _Ge'shen_ ) relationship was with the Rrift. Outwardly, they were almost identical; even John himself had admitted as much. The Rrift carried those crystal symbiotes, so he'd been told, that hardwired them for sheer viciousness. But John had not been too forthcoming with details on the exact relationship between the two races, except to say they were at war. Jayne wondered how long that had been going on.

Hell. There were humans in the 'verse who weren't worthy of the name, he knew. The human known as the "Operative" being one of them. Jayne always put the man's species designation in quotes anyway. And he was only one of many.

But this seemed more than just ideological differences. It was almost like a kind of predator-predator clash sort of thing….

There. His handheld PDA showed him the holding area where those warm bodies were. He was tempted to peek; nobody had ever had any clue as to what Reaver society was really like. Did they have a hierarchy? Were some Reavers over others? Somehow, he couldn't see it. Keeping Reavers in an enclosed space more than likely only resulted in them turning on each other, having no other outlet for the rage that made them what they were.

On the other hand…nobody knew. At least, nobody who was still alive and sane.

Maybe just a peek…

The door wasn't even locked. Well, that made a certain amount of sense, he guessed; it was right here, in the heart of Rrift territory, and there really wasn't anything inside to steal, even if one had been so tempted.

Mal had left it up to him as to how to go about destroying the Reavers. As John had said, it was the most logical course of action, as long as the method he used also managed to destroy the Reaver bodies as well. It wasn't enough to just kill them; the Rrift had to be deprived of anything to experiment on.

But with a little information from John, he'd come up with something.

The Rrift were in the process of altering Miranda's air mix, to better suit them. Like the Geshen, they preferred a higher concentration of oxygen. That meant they had to have a means of producing that oxygen.

And oxygen is an accelerant.

If he could just find the generators, or whatever they used…

Two Rrift drones came around the corner. One stopped, dead still, and sniffed the air. Then it hissed, nodding its head toward Jayne's position…

 _Discovered. C'mon, Jayne!_ Jayne went down on the floor, his years of experience guiding him, opening fire on the drones in one smooth movement. The drones had also gone for their guns, and returned fire, but Jayne had the advantage of surprise. It wasn't long before the two drones were lying, lifeless, on the floor.

Jayne got up, eyes scanning for more drones. Damn things were like ants; where there were two, there were likely to be more.

But that was actually good news. The atmosphere regulators must be nearby, and would probably be well guarded. That would give him some idea as to just where it was.

Again he consulted the Geshen PDA. The map he was seeing showed him as being deep within the Rrift's main structure, the black, spiky thing that served them as a building. Once again, Jayne wondered at their standards of esthetics, but, hey, aliens. Who could say?

The holding area for the remaining Reavers ought to be close by, or at least an area closed off that would be ideal for their holding. There was, of course, no notation indicating where they were, since the Geshen computers hadn't been able to hack into the Rrift databases enough to show detailed data. But it was a good start.

As quietly as he could, he stole around the corner from whence the two Rrift had come. The corridors themselves weren't well lit. Evidently, the Rrift had better things to do than install proper lighting. Or at least, as humans understood it.

Of course, that may have been deliberate on their part. Humans, the predominate life form in this area, needed light of certain specific frequencies in order to make use of their own primary sense, whereas the Rrift could employ their sense of smell to assist them in locating enemies…at least, that was the way John had told him they'd probably think.

There; right there should be the holding facility for the captured Reavers. Now if he could just make his way to an atmosphere-regenerator, redirect it, and light them up…

He paused. Something had been bothering him ever since they'd made planetfall. The sensors had aided them in locating the probable location of the Reavers, but had not been able to capture any sec-cam feeds. Hence their uncertainty as to Rrift patrols and concentration of troops.

Jayne wondered just what was going on with the Reavers the Rrift had captured. There was no reason to think anything but that they'd been essentially dumped into a room of some sort, an enclosure, and left there until the Rrift had need of one or more of them. But what were they doing in the meantime?

Jayne could make some pretty good guesses. Knowing Reavers as well as he did, he guessed they'd probably turn on each other. That meant the Rrift had to have them in some kind of restraints, shackles, maybe. Otherwise, their precious test subjects would eat each other. He grinned. The notion of the Reavers locked up, shackled up so they had no outlet for their rage, was appealing to him. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to just take a quick peek…

There; the upper story of the complex. It had a curving window angling downward set into the interior of the building. He checked; no spy cams that he could see. Then he looked.

To his amazement, the Reavers were just standing there, in the darkened room, no shackles or other visible restraints upon them. They just stood there, blank expressions on their faces, occasionally shifting posture to maintain their stance. Jayne was mightily puzzled. What had the Rrift done to these Reavers, and, hm, maybe he could his hands on it? It'd be worth any asking price on the frontier.

But before he could act, a loud klaxon began to sound. _Shit! Discovered!_ Where to go, where to hide? He knew he couldn't take on the entire fortress itself…

Hm. There was one place they might not look. It redefined the term "desperate plan," but it was all he could come up with. He looked around, then, muttering a prayer, dashed into the room where the Reavers were being held. He stuffed his gun behind some piles of what looked like crates of some sort, tore his clothes as best he could, then joined the Reavers in standing there, in the middle of the room, slack-jawed, letting his mouth drool a bit… _This has gotta be the craziest stunt I've ever heard of…_

Outside, he could hear the sound of Rrift troops running to and fro, rushing past the very windows he'd just been at. Not a one of them chanced to look at the prisoners.

He was gambling on their very alienness being his concealment. He knew humans had a hard time distinguishing between Geshen and Rrift…maybe that worked both ways.

He waited, swaying to and fro, expression blank, just like the Reavers around him…

Meanwhile, John and the others had identified the best way to the holding area where River was listed as being. Simon was a visible bundle of nerves; he couldn't imagine what his sister was going to look like after all this time, at the hands of these monsters. Mal had suggested maybe seeing if there was an air duct through which they might crawl, but John had nixed that. "Such would be more heavily booby-trapped than the normal corridors, Mal, precisely for that very reason. The corridors themselves must be used by the Rrift; they would be less likely to be mined." He'd showed them a small pendant he'd taken from one of the Rrift Elite they'd fought earlier. "This _should_ disarm any hardwired traps we may encounter. But the emphasis is on 'should.' They frequently change the codes every so often for precisely this set of circumstances."

" _Deus._ How paranoid can they get?"

"To them, this is normal."

"Say," Simon interjected, "You said you and the Rrift are essentially identical, appearance-wise. How about making it seem like you were transporting prisoners?"

"You're much too intact to be mistaken for Rrift prisoners."

"Damn. What _are_ these things, anyway?"

"Monsters."

The corridors proved to be oddly empty, increasing John's fears. "I was able to off-line most of the security cams in the area we're traversing," he fretted, "but there should be more troops than this. It's got to be a trap. Everyone, be on your guard. And, one other thing." He turned to the others, there behind one of the few turns in a corridor that had a lip he felt was safe. "Should it come down to it, whatever happens, take River and get out of here. Inara has the control codes for my ship, enough to fly it away from here. Get to it and get out of here. There is a failsafe, an emergency measure. The ship will fly itself back to Geshen territory. Do this. If necessary, I will create a distraction."

Mal shook his head. "We're not leaving anyone behind. Certainly not you. But no-one."

John turned to him, hefting his gun. "I thank you. But if it comes down to that, and there is no other way…if you do not," he said, gesturing with the gun in what could only be described as a threatening way, "I will personally shoot you myself. In the leg."

Mal and the others stared.

…

The meeting of the Elite took place in another part of the ever-growing complex. To the human eye, it would have seemed like a massive, spiky tower of Babel, with what looked like a dragon's head situated on top. Every so often, it would belch a cloud of gas resembling smoke, which would immediately get dispersed by the prevailing winds at that height.

The meeting hall itself had been designed for more Rrift than were currently in it, since the plan had been for Miranda to be a beachhead in their incursion into this rich new star system. The Patriarch signaled for order. Although words, as humans understood them, were not the sole means of data exchange, they were nonetheless the primary basis for the meeting's communication. "Status?"

One of the Rrift stood up, signaling for attention. "Sire, at 00:0930, we received a communication from the homeworlds. I can best convey its full meaning by way of direct data transit. However, an abbreviated summary…" she punched a button on her terminal, "..is available to you all now."

"Let us see it." There was a pause while each Rrift examined the file thus presented.

Afterwards, there was complete silence around the table. No communication, whether by means of electronic data transfer or spoken word, as each Rrift processed what he or she had just seen.

All races, no matter how advanced, possessed legends, myths of what humans would call "bogeymen," monsters too terrible to be true, which many used to frighten others, sometimes offspring, into behaving properly, or each other, for much the same purpose. Of course, the adults of the species, as they grew older and more mature, realized that such bogeymen were merely the products of imagination, legends of creatures embellished over time into the unbelievable and therefore certainly not true.

It looked as though one such myth was no myth.

…

"She should be in here," John said, standing in front of one holding cell. He looked worriedly, up and down the corridor. He'd rather it be full of bloodthirsty drones than be empty, as it was. He pulled up the three-D LED display on the lock screen

"Can you open it?"

"Shouldn't be hard. I was able to disarm the automatic protocols that would alert the High Command of any tampering with the lock."

But screen after screen appeared, turned an orange-red in color, then disappeared, as a frustrated John tried combination after combination. Finally, in exasperation, he muttered a hissing something under his breath that needed no translation, and pulled out a short-bladed knife of some black material. This he jammed into the mechanism and was rewarded with a loud _crack!_ and a puff of smoke from it. The door slid open, and they all gasped.

River was lying in a heap on the floor, curled up in a fetal position, naked. There was dried blood over a good portion of her body, with signs of manacles evident on her wrists, arms, and legs. Her captors had evidently not bothered to clean her after whatever they'd done to her, and, from her state, she'd been unable to clean herself. The smell of her unwashed body was strong. She'd evidently soiled herself more than once.

Both Simon and John were immediately at her side, Mal and Zoe watching the door and keeping an eye down each corridor. "Oh, River, what have they done to you?" Simon said, holding his sister's head in his lap.

John was examining her head, even as Simon held it. "I see no sign of significant intrusion. We seem to've been in time to prevent any hacking attempt."

"If this 'hacking' is worse than this…"

"It's quite a bit worse. However, the good news, if there is any to be found, is that she is still here. Had she been hacked, even unsuccessfully, she would not be here." Simon was doing his best to simultaneously rouse River and clean her up as best he could, with little visible progress either way. Her vacant expression worried him more than the filth she was encrusted with. He looked at John. "Can't you do something? You helped her before…"

"Perhaps." John switched around, orienting himself to where he was facing her. "Move back, and guard the door. I'll see if I can't at least bring her around." And he took her head in between his upper set of hands, propping her eyes open, and focused his eyes and his mind on her…

"I think I heard something," said Zoe. Mal nodded; Zoe's battle-honed senses were second to none throughout the 'verse. If she thought she heard something, you could take that to the bank.

Mal and Simon joined her at the door, Simon clearly reluctantly. He so hated seeing his sister in the state she was, and a part of him still didn't trust the alien.

John sat back, shaking his head. "She's very far away. I'll need time to reach her." He looked up at the others. "We've got to get her to the ship."

"That," said Zoe, never taking her eyes off the corridor, "may prove easier said than done." She gestured with her head.

A horde of Rrift drones had appeared around the corridor, heading straight for them.


	9. Chapter 9: Bogeymen

Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift

Chapter 9: Bogeymen

…..

 _I don't own, etc._

… _._

Chapter 9: Bogeymen

 _Much earlier:_ Yet another Rrift warship was sent into the troubled area. It was deliberately redesigned to be able to be flown from a remote location; it needed no crew.

But it was a sacrifice.

The ship moved at full speed around the asteroid belt. Its crew had reconciled themselves to never returning, and had made their peace with it. If they could only take the enemy with them…

The target world loomed ahead. Again, as had their predecessors before them, they gasped. So the legends were true.

The bogeyman was back.

 _Something_ was insinuating itself into their command computers, and the crew could feel the soft susurration in their minds, and susurration that would get stronger the longer they stayed here… "Helm!" ordered the Captain, "Activate all weapons! Target that… _thing._ Don't hold anything back!"

"Sire, I… I can't. Something's overriding the system, and it's getting worse!"

The captain sighed, a very human like gesture, and opened a small panel on his command chair, revealing a single, non-virtual button, colored orange. _I've no choice,_ he thought, even as he slammed his fist down upon button, releasing the magnetic field around the antimatter in the core of his ship.

The ship went up like a star.

….

Miranda: they'd managed to partially close the door, and Mal and Zoe took up defensive positions against the horde of drones rounding the corner….

…but said drones never spared a glance at the door. Whatever they'd been called to do didn't involve checking in on prisoners, or, at least, not this prisoner. With single-minded purpose, they ran silently down the corridor, disappearing as they rounded another corner.

"Well," quipped Zoe, "normally, I don't like being ignored. But I'll make an exception in this case."

"Damn straight. John, what do you suppose is going on? Are the Rrift under attack from someone else?"

"That is the most logical scenario, Malcolm Reynolds. However, I have learned that true answers are seldom completely logical. Yes, the Rrift obviously feel threatened. I am fairly certain they have no fear of your warships. And I have not been able to summon my own people; this points to a third, or rather, a fourth, party. One they obviously consider a grave threat, indeed. Yes," he muttered to himself, almost too low to be heard, "a grave threat, indeed."

"But we have our objective," he glanced down at River. "We must remove her from this place. We can do little for her at this juncture." So saying, he picked up the unconscious form of River with his two lower arms, while readying his gun with the upper set. "We must get her to the ship."

…

Jayne was convinced that the quiescent Reavers would, any second, turn on him. But they didn't.

Instead they just stood there, close enough to touch had he so desired, blank expressions on their faces, swaying back and forth just enough to maintain their stance. Whatever the Rrift had done to them apparently acted only on them, as Jayne didn't feel any sort of numbing or hypnotic effect.

What _had_ the Rrift done to them, anyway?

On the frontier, the fearsome Reavers were synonymous with uncontrollable savagery. Yet here, they were like puppets waiting for their masters to return.

The party of Rrift drones had long since left, and Jayne retrieved his gun. He was tempted to start blasting away at the Reavers—it would be fun to shoot them like this, like target shooting—but knew that wouldn't fulfill his mission objective: he had to, not just kill them, but utterly destroy them, depriving the Rrift of anything to experiment on.

Okay, now…where were those air regenerators again?

…

The shuttle: the little ship's chameleon field had held; it hadn't been spotted. John and Simon were in the small washroom with a still unresponsive River, both of them trying to wash her off. There was a lot of gunk to come off. Mal and Zoe manned the forward pilot's station in case the Rrift did manage to locate the small craft.

Simon cleared his throat. "You know, John…" The reptiloid glanced at him briefly, then went back to washing River. "You never told us how you and River met. For that matter, you never told us exactly what my sister means to you. You said you think she regards you as her pet…but you never said how you think of her."

"That is correct, Simon Tam." Silence

"Well? Aren't you going to?"

"No, Simon Tam. I am not."

"You realize, of course, that that doesn't really reassure me of anything, right?"

"Yes." He fell silent.

After a few moments, Simon again spoke up. "I'm gonna ask you point-blank then: is there a…physical component…to your relationship with River?"

John was silent for a long, long moment, long enough that Simon was wondering if he was going to respond at all. Then, "Yes, there is. But not in the way you suppose."

"And how am I supposing?"

"You humans see everything in terms of sex. Your sister and I have never had sex, and, barring some incredible set of circumstances, never shall. But we are…lovers, in a very real way."

Simon didn't say anything right away. The alien was right: humans did see everything in terms of sex. John was male (albeit an alien male), while River was female, so therefore…

River was nearly clean now, and John lifted her out of the small tub, seating her in a chair on the far side of the room. "Now. I must prepare. Simon, it would be best if you were to go. The fewer distractions, the better."

"I'd like to stay. This process is fascinating to me."

"It would be best if you'd go."

"But-*"

" _JUST GO, HUMAN!"_ John suddenly shouted. So surprised was Simon that he backpedaled, practically falling out of the door….

…..

The Rrift holding area: Jayne had managed to locate the oxygen generators. Good; they pulsed into several large rooms before exiting the upper ventilator. Now, if he could just improvise some sort of way to set it off….

He pulled out a cartridge from his pocket. Even though he was using a Geshen wave-packet gun, he still preferred the old ways. He quickly pulled the bullet and shook out the powder. A little more work, and he'd managed to dislodge the primer. Now he had the makings of a nice little bomb. It wouldn't have to be very big. Now for a timer of some sort…

His knowledge of demolitions served him well, and he presently had a very small, very effective little improvised explosive device…

Shortly, the explosion ripped throughout the entire complex, reducing a good portion of the massive structure to rubble. Spiky rubble, but still rubble.

Jayne had been on the very outskirts of the explosion. Even though he knew what to look for, the sheer sound of it momentarily deafened him. If flung him back against another building, this one apparently built into the side of a mountain. He grunted as his left side took the full brunt of the fall. He felt something in his arm snap. _Okay, this is so not good._

He managed to drag himself into a small hollow, not a true cave, but just a small, defensible place. He pulled himself out of sight, watching the building the Reavers had been in burn. _'Bout bloody time._

He was in the process of trying to tear off some of his shirt for a makeshift sling, when he saw something move on the edge of his vision. It was a reptiloid, carrying a gun similar to the ones he and the others were using. At first, he thought it was John. Then he saw the markings, the attire….

….this was no Geshen. This was a Rrift. A Rrift drone, to be precise. And it was coming right for him.

 _Talk about the absolute worst timing in the 'verse!_

…..

The shuttle: River was just then regaining full consciousness, with John gazing into her eyes. "Hey," she managed a smile. To him, that was the most beautiful thing in the universe. Ring galaxies couldn't hold the proverbial candle to it. "Took you long enough." She put her arms around him, and he did reciprocated.

"Got held up in traffic." After a moment, "I'm afraid I snapped at Simon."

She drew back, looking him in the eyes, concern evident on her features. "It's getting worse, isn't it?"

He lowered his head, resignedly. "Yes."

"John, you should tell them. They'd understand!"

"How? _I_ don't understand, myself."

"I know there's bound to be a, a cure or treatment, at least…"

"River, you and I both know there is not. It's…irreversible. When the time comes, rather than endanger others, I…I will simply leave. Inara can fly the ship to Geshen territory, and I'm sure my people will send a contingent, if for no other reason, than to keep the Rrift from gaining yet another star system. You won't need me for that."

She grasped the sides of his head in both her hands. " _I_ need you. And for more than just keeping my brain stabilized, too."

"You will have to learn to do without me, River. For the simple fact is, I will not be here much longer."

Jayne had passed out from the pain. When he came to, he found he was bound around his torso with some sort of cloth-like material, securing his arm to his side, immobilizing it, preventing it from breaking further. But who?

He looked up. Sitting across the hollowed out area was the Rrift he'd seen earlier. It was watching him intently.

Jayne immediately went for his gun…only to find it wasn't there. _Terrific._ Here he was, at the mercy of a merciless being.

But said merciless being took no hostile action. Instead, it just continued to sit there, its own gun held loosely across its lap, watching him. Jayne wondered if he could wrench the weapon away, then decided against it. Not from here, at least, and not in the state he was in. Best to wait and see what happened.

So what happened next took him completely by surprise: the Rrift drone slung its gun over its shoulder, and came over to him and helped him to his feet.

For a moment, Jayne was thunderstruck. A Rrift drone, actually helping someone? Especially a human? "Mind telling me what all this is about?" Of course, what was going on was obvious: the drone was taking him back as a captive.

Jayne knew several ways of committing suicide, even in his condition. None appealed to him, but given the alternative….

But instead of dragging him back to the fortress, the drone began to half-carry him in what he knew to the be the general direction of the shuttle. _Okay, now this is pushin' the weirdometer a little._ "What are you doing? What's going on?" But of course the Rrift made no reply.

But part of the way there, the drone let go of him, and clutched at its head, all but falling down and rolling on the ground. It kept hissing, clearly in some sort of agony.

Then it picked itself up, practically gasping for air, re-established its hold on Jayne, and the pair continued on their way.

…..

"Simon?" River had hunted up her brother, finding him conversing with Mal and Zoe. He turned to her. "River!" With one bound he was by her side, hugging her. His sister was back. Not the mindless thing they'd rescued, nor the scrambled person the Academy had produced, but _his sister._

"Ow," she said in mock pain, "Don't break any bones there, big brother." Then, as he released her, she sobered. "Look. John told me what happened, you know, a few minutes ago, between you and him. There's a reason for that. He didn't want to tell you, but I…persuaded him to do so. So, all of you, come with me, will you?"

Shortly the group found themselves in the tiny conference room. Mal found himself wishing for the more expansive room of the _Serenity_ , but what was, was.

John was already seated, and River took up station at his side. He waited until they were all seated, and then said, "Simon Tam, I apologize for my outburst earlier."

"That's…alright. Perhaps I was being a bit pushy, anyway. But River tells me there's a reason for it?"

"Yes, unfortunately. You've no idea how much I wish I could say otherwise. But it is not to be.

"Mal? Do you remember my saying that the Rrift must be dealing with some colossal threat, one that would require all their resources? Even to the point of leaving key areas under-defended?"

"Yeeesss. Have you figured out what that threat might be?"

"I have a suspicion. If I am correct, it…would answer a lot of questions." He paused a moment, marshalling his thoughts. Then, "Your human culture has its bogeymen: vampires, werewolves, etc. All of them tend to prey on humans, am I correct?"

"Again, yes. But what's this got to do with-*"

"My own people—along with the Rrift—have a bogeyman of our own. It is called the Crystal, and wherever it goes, it leaves nothing but itself behind."

"The Crystal? You mean like those things in the Rrift's heads?"

"No, something very different. Its means of propagation is not certain, but the most popular theory extant is that it is crystalline particles, driven by the solar winds, and guided by magnetic influences, to habitable worlds. Some theories hold that the Crystal occasionally, for unknown reasons, sends out what you would call seeds, seeds the size of starships, except they are homogenous, composed of pure Crystal, with no crew. And to answer your next question: is it intelligent?" Here he shrugged his upper two sets of arms. "Who can say? They—or it-certainly never tried to communicate with us.

"But wherever the Crystal takes hold, it begins to…to engulf all living beings, turning them into Crystal analogues of their previous selves. Non-intelligent analogues, it should go without saying. Crystal statues, perhaps I should say. Lifeless, at least, as far as we know.

"Then the rocks and dirt. Until finally, there is nothing left of the planet but one gigantic Crystal.

"When I was a youngling, I heard tales about the Crystal, about how, if you strayed too far from the grouping, the Crystal would get you. When I grew older, I dismissed such thoughts as fantasy, of course.

"I was wrong."

Simon broke in. "John, that's…all very interesting, but what does it have to do with your coming unglued a moment ago?"

Now John looked him right in the eyes, and, even with his alien features, Simon could see the anguish in the alien's soul. "Because, Simon Tam, I…am infected. There is a small piece of Crystal growing within me, within my brain. It sometimes causes mood swings, or our equivalent thereof. To behave erratically. It certainly shortens my temper at times."

The others, except for River, reacted with shock. "Uhm, are, are, I mean, is…"

"There is no danger to anyone else, not at this juncture. Only after the Crystal reaches a certain critical stage—which will be clearly noticeable by then—will anyone else be in danger."

"John… _how did this happen?_ I mean, you've basically told us you're dying!"

John shrugged, and Mal could see the alien trying to act nonchalant. _I guess much like I would, in his sho-* Er, scales._ "And I am. As to how it happened, I do not know. I have never been anywhere near any Crystallized systems, nor come into contact with it in any way that I know. But it is within me. And growing at an ever faster rate." He paused a moment. "So...our time is short. We must retrieve Jayne, and then…it would be best for all of you to take this ship and head for Geshen Territory. As I told River, my people are almost certain to send a contingent, perhaps a full fleet, here, if for no other reason than to keep the Rrift from claiming yet another star system. So no matter what happens to me, you must do this."

"OOOOHH, no you don't!" exclaimed Simon vigorously, to the surprise of the rest of them, including his sister. "You don't get to play the noble hero, sacrificing his life so blithely like that. There's a cure for your condition; there's bound to be. What have you tried so far?"

"Simon, I thank you for your concern, but the full scientific might of my people have attempted to cure me of this…and failed. That was one reason I embarked on the journey I did: I wanted one last adventure." Pause. "I just never expected to meet…the friends that I have."

"Don't try to talk him out of it, John," said River, casting an amused glance at her brother. "Once he makes up his mind like this, he never changes it."

He glanced at her with a mixture of amusement and affection. "Much like someone else I know."

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow. "Who?"'

Simon broke in. "Do you have, like, a library on board your ship? One I could access?"

"Yes, but I'd have to get you an explant, such as Inara is wear-*" But his words were drowned out by an alarm. He looked up. "Someone's coming."

Every jaw dropped when Jayne staggered into sight, being half-supported by a Rrift drone. Without hesitation, the pair made their way up to the shuttle—or, rather, where Jayne knew the shuttle to be. "Okay, people. I don't understand it any better than you, but let me in, or I'll huff an' I'll puff, an'-*"

Mal looked at John, whose face was expressing the same shock as the rest. "We'd best get them inside. Standing out there, they're bound to attract _all_ the wrong kinds of attention."

 _To be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10: Aliens

Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift

Chapter 10: Aliens

….

 _I don't own the Firefly franchise. Wish I did._

…

Chapter 10: Aliens

They lowered the ramp and the Rrift drone helped Jayne inside. Once inside, it collapsed in a near-fetal position. John moved immediately to cover it with his gun….

"No!" shouted Jayne. "Don't! I don't know what it is, but there's something different about this one."

"We can't take that chance, Jayne," said John, once again lifting his weapon. Mal put a hand on his arm. "No, wait, John. Jayne's right; there's something odd about this one. Maybe it's broken its programming or something…"

"They _cannot_ break their programming, Malcolm Reynolds. You saw; the crystal symbiote-*"

"But this one did, John, for whatever reason. Don't you think we need to find out how and why?"

John hesitated a moment, then, with a glance at River, lowered his weapon. "Very well. But it must be secured. And I have nothing on board with which to do that."

"We'll come up with something."

The humans had some spare leather clothing on board; Mal directed them to tear it into strips and bind the creature, which appeared to be unconscious. "Remember, wrap the tail, too," said John. "It, too, is a weapon."

There was little room on the small shuttle in which to place the creature, but they managed to move some crates out of a closet and stuff the Rrift in there. It groaned during the process, and showed signs of awakening, but did not.

"Okay," said Mal, once they had the drone securely locked away, "John? Any wild guesses?"

"I can think of none, Malcolm Reynolds. The only thing that it could possibly make any sense is that something must have gone wrong with its symbiote. But I have never heard of that happening before. And even if something _had_ gone wrong with its symbiote, there is no reason for it to behave it the way that it has. All its life, it has been trained, programmed to hate aliens, to obey the commands of the Elite. Even assuming that programming was no longer in effect, why should it change its lifelong behavior patterns?"

Simon spoke up. "John. Just a thought. You told us the Crystal infecting you caused you to…act differently than you normally would. Could this drone have been likewise infected?"

John thought long and hard. "It…is not _im_ possible _,_ Simon Tam. However, if so, that only makes it _more_ dangerous to us.

"For what is in me is just that: an infection. It grows. Sooner or later, unless something is done, it will spread. To us all."

….

"No, John, it's too risky." River was shaking her head. Simon and the others still marveled; the River they knew had been a truly scrambled person. Now, it was like…nothing had ever happened to her.

To Simon, at least, that excused a world or two of sins from John. He still didn't understand how it was done, but John had offered to show him how to build an interface that would allow them to, at least partially, correct River's brain wave patterns, though the Geshen warned them it would only be partially successful. He would have cheerfully traded his soul for such a machine.

"My people may be able to do more, if we can but contact them. No promises, mind you; at this point, the Rrift have a better understanding of human psychobiology than we do. Still, it is something." To Simon, those were the most beautiful words he'd ever heard.

At the moment, the two of them were discussing—it could almost be called an argument—on the best way to return to the _Angel_. "It's too risky. The Rrift _have_ to be on the alert since the destruction of the Reaver holding station. No matter what else is going on, they'd be sure to spot the shuttle and take action." It was strange, seeing River _actually having a coherent conversation_ with someone. "We'd be sitting ducks. This shuttle doesn't look anything like a Rrift craft, and the drive system is totally different. You may as well paint 'shoot me' on the side."

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"I'd have to try hard to come up with a _worse_ one! What about…" Mal left the scene, shaking his head. Strange, the curveballs life throws, sometimes. Here they were, actually talking with an _alien_ , a nonhuman being, from a place far out beyond the 'verse. Talking about another alien race, also from way out, coming here to pillage and plunder. Talking about somehow…what? Leaving the 'verse?

Were they about to go sight-seeing?

That notion was…kinda exciting.

In his heart, Mal was a businessman, pure and simple. He knew the value of a credit, and knew you hadda have 'em to get by. But…!

Star travel! The _stars!_

That night, they carefully lifted off, improvised mufflers over the main drive components, with John notifying Inara and Kaylee of their imminent arrival via secure communications. Kaylee told him that, from what they could make of the drive, it seemed to be operational, at least to the degree they were able to determine. "I'll have it pre-operational, just warmed up enough so as not to emit anything. But we can move as soon as you lock down."

"Faithful Kaylee," murmured John.

"Er…faithful?"

"Yes, Mal. She must be a very responsible individual, to have been chosen for the service that she has, the service she renders to you all."

"Uh…service?" _Kaylee?_ True, she was a good mechanic and all, but…

"Why, yes. After all, she carries-*" At that exact moment, one of the alarms went off. "Rrift patrol ship. We have been spotted."

…..

John frantically drove the shuttle downward, anything to keep the patrol ship from detecting the _Angel._ In this, he was aided by the sheer vastness of space itself: as long as the _Angel_ emitted no radio waves or any other emanations, it would be hard to detect, simply because there was so much space to hide in. Its cloaking devices relied, mainly, on this.

At the same time, he sent out minicons, which broadcast on common frequencies, with the intent of distracting the Rrift patrol ship. It worked, but the Rrift were still drawn to the shuttle, which could not hide its own drive field. "Strap in," he said, "this could get rough."

That proved to be extremely true. Twisting one way, then the other, John managed to avoid the Rrift artillery. Mal, Zoe, Simon, River were flung back against the restraining straps. The shuttle didn't have any real inertial compensators; it had never been designed for such use. _Well,_ he thought, _I did come looking for adventure._

There was a large Rrift structure—it could not have been mistaken for a natural formation—rising easily hundreds of feet into the air. He dodged behind that, flying the shuttle so low Mal was afraid he'd hear metal screeching from the deck plates.

"Do no worry, Malcom Reynolds!" shouted John, as though sensing his thoughts. "At the velocity we are currently traveling, if we so much as touch the ground, we will never know it!"

 _To him, that's a 'don't worry' thought?_ "Uh, John? I know you've said death is preferable to being taken by the Rrift, but you do know there's a third option, right? Like, namely, _not dying?_ 'Spose we could arrange for that one?"

"Do not fear, Malcolm Reynolds! I am no fighter pilot, but I have undergone numerous courses on how to fly this type of shuttle!" He paused, seeming to turn introspective for a moment. "Of course, I admit that I never actually _graduated_ from any of them…"

"Wait, _what_?"

"I will," he said, "return you all, safe and sound, back to Kaylee."

 _Okay, I really have to talk to him about that, someday_

The Rrift ship behind them opened fire with its missiles, and John twisted and turned, trying to throw them off. And he did…except for one.

The explosion racked the little craft, even as he shot around one of the black spiky monoliths that seemed to serve as Rrift architecture. The crew was shaken back and forth as he desperately fought for control, using all four hands simultaneously…

Then, silence. The shuttle creaked a bit, and John looked fearfully at the roof. The viewscreen was nonfunctioning, showing only blackness.

The shuttle had come to rest canted to its left side. Mal and the others carefully unstrapped themselves, checking their guns. There was no doubt they were once again in enemy territory. "Hey, what about the drone? Maybe it knows something we could use."

"You would be best served forgetting about that, Malcolm Reynolds. A drone would have no tactical knowledge of any use, and, if by some chance, one did, it would sooner die than part with that information to an enemy."

"The same way they don't ever take wounded humans back to their people?"

John paused for just a moment. "Yes. Exactly the same."

"C'mon, John. Gimme a sit-rep here. We gotta check on Jayne; are we in immediate danger?"

"On any Rrift-controlled world, there is always immediate danger…but I sense what you are asking. Very well." They made their way back to the area that served as a makeshift, scrambling over fallen machinery and demolished sections of bulkhead. It was clear, even to someone unfamiliar with the alien design, that the shuttle would never fly again.

Jayne was wedged in between two walls that, had they been squeezed any closer, would have crushed him. A black spike had narrowly missed his crotch. "Okay, guys." He looked down. " _That_ was too close for comfort."

They began to pry him loose. "Now, where's that drone?" Such was the damage done to the shuttle that Mal could barely recognize the interior.

"It is over there," said John, without looking around. "Behind that bulkhead." The closet he waved a hand towards looked like it had gone through a trash compactor.

"We've gotta get it out. Simon, you and River keep at this. Zoe, John…you're with me." And he started towards the spot designated.

"You are wasting your time, Malcolm Reynolds! We must free Jayne, and find another means off this planet!"

Mal turned to him. "Are you seriously suggesting that we just _leave it?_ It could be dying in there! _"_

John was trying to focus on both freeing Jayne without causing any further harm, and on his seemingly brain-damaged ally. "It is probably already dead. Our energies are better spent elsewhere."

"John…" Mal turned fully to him, "Look. It's one thing to kill someone in battle, or for some legitimate reason like that. But…just to let someone die, someone who, for whatever reason, has done you a good turn…just let them die?" He stared at the Geshen as though seeing him for the first time.

John seemed unwilling to directly answer that. "It…is simply a matter of priorities, Mal."

"No, John. This is more than a matter of priorities, and we both know it. You don't _want_ that drone saved."

What followed was interesting. John's whole alien countenance, which they'd learned to read, simply closed up. He showed no emotion whatsoever. River looked up in concern. "Very well, Malcolm Reynolds." And without another word, he grabbed a prybar. "Let us go free it. If it lives."

Mal narrowed his eyes at the alien's retreating back. The way John had put that…he clearly thought the drone was alive.

He just didn't want it to stay that way.

…..

The Rrift High Council: "You are certain?"

"Yes, Sires, I am. There is no doubt but that there is evidence of Crystal infestation in System 13-002658-4. The fourth planet outward has been thoroughly consumed; our last transmissions from the ships sent to investigate have left no doubt.

"If the pattern proceeds as before, it will not be long until the entire system is lost to us."

"Then this makes our excursion into this new system all the more important. What have you discovered? What of its inhabitants?"

"It is a system rich in planets and resources, and the aboriginals will scarcely impede our progress at all. Indeed, can we succeed in hacking them, they will provide an excellent source of labor. I recommend full exploitation."

"We will send a convoy. Your estimate of their threat level?"

"Scarcely more than two, My Lords. And only that because they do have space travel and atomic energy."

"Then two squadrons should be sufficient. But we will hold two more in reserve; after all, if we are forced to evacuate System 13-002678, that will require a shift in focus, with accompanying uncertainty. We cannot afford to make inaccurate assessments. But I sense there is something else you've to say?"

The Supervisor hesitated. "We've had unconfirmed reports of Geshen activity within this star system."

"What?! And you're just now telling us this?"

"It is only a rumor, and it does not refer to any sort of truly significant force. The rumors speak of one lone member of that species." He spread his hands in a very human like gesture. "What it is doing here, is unknown. But we are confident that it has had no opportunity to report to the Geshen High Command."

"That matters little. As long as it lives, there will be danger to our operations. I do not have to tell you how to deal with threats to our plans. Do so, and then report back. Priority one."

….

It took them a little over an hour to pry the Rrift drone free of the smashed-in enclosure that had been its holding cell. They were almost too late: several sharp ceiling spikes looked dangerously unstable.

Mal wasn't really sure about John anymore. He couldn't shake the feeling that the Geshen just might arrange a little accident for their prisoner. But…John? Gentle John? Do a thing like that?

 _On the other hand, he is an alien. By definition, he is different. Perhaps he_ _thinks_ _differently._ So far, they'd been able to see the Geshen as just a funny looking human, but his recent actions indicated a degree of alienation that extended into the inner self, rather than just the appearance.

The creature gasped as it was drawn out of the wall. It was fully conscious, and this seemed to perturb John. "Do not untie it. Practically everything about it is a weapon."

"C'mon, Zoe. Let's get Geronimo here somewhere with a little more space."

"'Geronimo', sir?" Zoe asked in an amused tone of voice.

"'S good a name as any, for right now. Simon? You and River get Jayne?" They converged by the twisted remains of the lock.

"Yeah." They both appeared, hoisting Jayne, his improvised splint still in place, between them. Jayne turned and gave the Rrift drone a long, long look. It did not return the look, nor did it seem to take serious notice of the humans around it.

Together, they managed to cobble together a sort of supported carry between them for the drone. Jayne himself was fully conscious, though in pain, and required no help, being able to hobble along.

"Come along," said John, a bit abruptly, Mal thought. "We must find a defensible place, and then find some other means off this planet."

"You don't have to tell us twice," muttered Jayne.

"Good. For I shall not."

 _To be continued…_


	11. Chapter 11: The Unexpected

Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift

Chapter 11: The Unexpected

…..

 _Don't own, okay. Onward_

…

Chapter 11: The Unexpected

Mal, John, and the others cautiously made their way through the black spiky edifices that served as Rrift buildings for what seemed like forever, once again encountering no Rrift drones or Elite. That both pleased and disturbed John, and he shared his concerns with Mal. "Well, look on the bright side, John. If they're so concerned about this Crystal thing—it's not here in the 'verse, is it?" John had never actually said.

"I do not know, Malcolm Reynolds. My own sensors did not detect any such thing, here in your 'verse."

"What about that thing in your head? From what you've said, this Crystal is, like, one giant organism all by itself. Could it tell you anything?"

John heaved a very human sounding sigh. "No, Malcolm Reynolds. It does not communicate with me. It is, so far as I know, more in the nature of an infection than a contact."

"Yes, so you've said…but by your own admission, nobody knows much about the thing. That being the case-*"

"Malcolm Reynolds, I mean this in no disrespectful manner, but could we discuss something else? Kindly keep in mind what is in my head will kill me."

"So you say."

John turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Mal turned to him squarely, putting the hand not holding his gun up against the Geshen's shoulder, pushing the alien back in an almost aggressive way, "are you giving up? Your people, your own medtechs, have told you there's no cure, so you believe it yourself? And now you're ready to just lie down and die?"

Faster than their eyes could follow, John's upper right claw shot out and grasped Mal by the throat, the seven-fingered hand closing with inhuman strength. " _Diiieee?"_ he hissed.

" _Stand…down,"_ Mal gasped. Such was John's state of mind, that he wasn't even aware of Zoe's gun at his head. But Mal's breath was failing. " _John…"_

And just like that, something of the person they'd known as John Smith swam back into his eyes. He dropped Mal with an expression on his face that could not be translated any other way: horror. "I…Mal…I…"

"Don't," said Mal, rubbing his throat, "I practically pushed you into it. I wanted, no, I _needed_ to see how…far things had gone."

"Now you know." John's voice, even with his alien accent, sounded dismal. He looked up at the others, for the first time since they'd arrived on this world seemingly unconcerned about the enemy surrounding them. The enemy within… "I will leave. I can distract the Rrift. Inara can fly the ship, but it will be up to you to get to it. Perhaps Kaylee can effect a rescue with the _Serenity,_ but I would caution you-*"

"That's not what I meant," said Mal, still rubbing his throat. The Geshen had had a tight grip. "I meant, I had to see how much of _you_ was still in there. And even though I pushed you, something still brought you back. That something is you, John."

"I…am not convinced…" John was evidently severely ashamed.

"Nor am I," said an unfamiliar voice. They all looked around.

The Rrift drone, still securely tied and being hustled along, was looking at them with what looked like complete innocence.

…

"Wait," said Mal, turning to the creature. "You can _speak?_ "

"Yes," it said, simply. Then it fell silent again.

"Who are you?" asked Mal. He noticed that Zoe's gun had half-turned to cover the drone. Somehow, the fact that it could communicate with them made it seem more dangerous than before.

"I am designated ZX974A-*

"Wait, wait. What's your name?"

"I have none, as I am given to understand it."

"Do not listen to it, Mal!" John was shaken out of his shock, both at his own actions and the incredible fact of an enemy displaying a previously unsuspected ability. "Everything it says could be lie, designed to lead us into a trap!"

Mal looked the drone. The drone looked back, with no readable expression on its saurian face. "He is right."

"What?" This was _not_ expected.

"He is right. Everything I say _could_ be a lie designed to lead you into a trap."

"Okay," said Mal, spreading his hands. "I think we need a time out here. John. Is there any place around here where we can…talk?" He cast a nervous glance at the drone.

It simply looked back.

…..

They managed to find a fragment of a shattered house that had somehow escaped the Rrift "remodeling" of the planet. It wasn't anywhere near as secure as Mal would have liked, but beggars, choosers, etc. "Alright," he asked the drone, "how is it that you can…communicate with us? You're the first Rrift we've seen that even seems to want to."

The drone didn't hesitate. "I was indoctrinated with your language for the purposes of interrogating captured humans."

"You're an…interrogator?" _Read: torturer,_ thought Mal.

"Yes. I was to serve to physically interrogate whatever prisoners as we took."

"And you're…" He looked at John, who seemed to have retreated into himself. River stood over by him; she knew what was going on in his soul. She knew he shouldn't be alone right now. "You're a…drone?"

"Yes. To physically interrogate prisoners is not the function of the Elite."

"Meaning," said John, speaking up for the first time since they'd regrouped here, "that it is beneath them to soil their hands with such."

The drone stared back at him, no expression on its face. "As you say."

"Wait," said Jayne. "You can talk. Why didn't you before? And why'd you rescue me?"

"I do not know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I mean I do not know!" The drone's whispery voice rose. "I do not know why I did what I did! Aah… _Sssssssssssss….!"_ It suddenly hissed and fell over, rolling on the ground. It kept up a steady stream of hissing, with a few other sounds that they guessed must be related to Rrift speech.

"Do not go near it, Mal!" urged John, "Its symbiote is trying to regain control!"

"What can we do?" asked River, standing near John. She was the only one of the entire crew who seemed to want to, anymore. For all Mal's good words, they'd seen a side of their saurian ally that made them nervous in his presence.

"There is nothing to do. It will either regain control, or it will not. We can only wait."

The agonized hissing went on for what seemed like an interminable time. Finally, the drone stopped, and lay panting on the ground. Mal approached cautiously, as John looked worriedly on. "Are you alright?"

It panted, its long tongue hanging out of its mouth. "I am…functional."

Mal reconsidered his words. "Do you still wish to…aid us?"

"I will aid you."

"Mal…" said John, "It could be lying. It probably is."

The drone seemed to think. "That probability is high. Only I know the truth."

"So…" Mal still seemed to be considering how to put it. In spite of all his experience, having a potential ally (?) who freely admits to the possibility of treachery was not something he was really prepared for. "What do we do?" he asked the drone.

"You either accept my word as truth, and act accordingly, or you accept it to varying degrees, and act accordingly, or you do not accept it at all, and…act accordingly," it said.

"This isn't getting us anywhere," growled Jayne. "I vote we shoot it."

Simon turned to him. "It saved your life…"

"For God only knows what reason. Even _it_ doesn't know why. Who's to say how long that will last?"

"That would be," said the drone, "the most logical solution."

"You know, you're not exactly helping anything," growled Mal. "Don't you _want_ to live?"

"Of course. But I said I would aid you. Do your people not consider advice to be aid?"

Suddenly, River seemed to slump. "River?" Both Simon and John were instantly at her side.

"It…I…John?" Her eyes seemed to unfocus momentarily.

He took her by the arm. She'd let her weapon slump almost to the ground. "It's happening again, isn't it?" She nodded. He turned to the others. "I have to get somewhere where I can be assured of some solitude, at least for a few minutes."

"Sorry," said Mal. He knew what was happening, of course. The "therapy" the Academy had inflicted upon River was taking its toll, again. John could, if he could get the chance, restore her to function, but he would need some time to do so. "I can't think of any better place than here. Geronimo?" He turned to the drone. "You say you wanna aid us. You know any place safer than this? Safer for us, I mean," he amended, even as the drone was opening its mouth to speak.

"No. I know of no secure location within practical distance from here."

"Then this'll have to do. John? You do your thing, and we'll just have to stand guard. 'Kay?" The Geshen nodded an unhappy agreement, a custom he'd learned from his human allies. He turned his attention to River, took her face in his hands, looked into her eyes…

" _What are you doing? Do not do that!"_ shouted the drone. It began to struggle against its bonds to the degree that Zoe and Mal leaped upon it, trying to keep it from breaking loose.

"Easy, there, Geronimo! Nothing bad's happening!" But the Rrift continued to hiss and struggle. Its strength, even bound as it was, was incredible, and it thrashed and struggled like a wild animal. It was all they could do to hold on to it. Mal worried that the noise it was making would attract other Rrift. "John! What's going on?"

John sighed, another gesture he'd learned from the humans. "It…is due to a cultural difference between our species, Mal. To us, this usage of what you call our 'weird alien powers' is simply a means of communication, and, yes, on occasion, a means of control over others, when necessary. But to the Rrift, it is something else altogether. To them, it is essentially a means of forcing others. You might call it mental rape."

They were still struggling to control the out-of-control alien. "And it's _objecting_ to this? I thought it was trained as an interrogator!"

"That is what it said. Mal, _nothing_ about this drone makes any sense."

The drone had finally calmed down, exhausted from struggling against its bonds and the humans simultaneously. "You…you will not do that. I will…I will kill you…"

John walked over to the enemy soldier. It was lying face down on the ground, Zoe and Simon both holding it down. He turned it over and knelt beside it. _"It is not like that,"_ he said in what he hoped was a fair imitation of the Rrift speech. Although they shared vocal apparatus, their languages were very different. _"It is necessary. This alien female has been damaged by her own people. I am only trying to restore as much function to her damaged brain as I can. I am not hurting her."_

" _Truly?"_

" _Yes. Why is this of concern to you?"_ John was as puzzled as the rest of them.

" _It is…wrong. It should not be done."_

" _Wrong? Why would you, an interrogator, feel such an action is wrong?"_

" _I…do not know."_

… _.._

Far, far out in space, far beyond the 'verse, a large object traversed the void. To any human onlooker, had anyone been able to see it, it would have resembled a giant crystal spheroid, flattened at both ends, with a ring, apparently unsupported, circling its middle. No-one would have been able to see it, however, as it was moving at a velocity considerably in excess of that of light.

Within, the ruling intelligence conversed with itself. _"{{Untranslatable}} ready for harvest?"_ This was followed by an inexpressible thought-word that would normally indicate a number in the worlds of men and others. _"What of {{…}}?"_ Another designation impossible to translate in any organic tongue.

" _Located."_

" _Assign {{Alpha Priority}} to {{…}}. Adjust course. Intercept."_

 _To be continued…_


	12. Chapter 12: Enemy Territory

Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift

Chapter 12: Enemy Territory

…..

 _I could have sworn I posted some of this material before. If not, then so be it, but if I did, here it is, again!_

 _I don't own any of the rights to any of these characters, with, of course, the exception of "John Smith." And I don't really own him. I suspect he owns me._

…

Chapter 12: Enemy Territory

It took a long time, with the Rrift drone looking on with its unreadable alien expression. John had to constantly vary his own theta levels, his own brainwave patterns, adjusting them to match the missing segment in River's own mental landscape. In a sense, he was functioning as a living, external prosthesis for her mental functions. But in this, he had no established guidelines. He was essentially "flying blind."

But finally, the person they'd come to know since her reunion with John, the person Simon remembered from before, swam back into her eyes. "You are back," said John, in his own hissing, alien version of English.

"Yes…thank you, John." He set her down on a wooden box, after making sure it would hold her weight. She looked up at the others. "It seems I stepped out, again."

"Mal," said John, "could I have…a word with you?" And Mal read the words he _didn't_ say: _"In private?"_

"This," he glanced around, "looks like about as private as we got. We can step over here…" He indicated a corner in the shell of the building where they were.

They walked over, more of a psychological move than a truly physically effective one would be. "Mal, it's getting worse. What the Academy did to River...it's getting worse. I can only do so much."

Mal thought. He knew what the Geshen was saying. Right now, the only thing keeping River, well, _River,_ was his mental buttressing. And that was beginning to lose its effectiveness. "So what do you think we oughtta do?"

"We have to get her to my people. I don't know if they can, can, help her or not, but it's the only thing I can think of to do. Either that, or she goes back to being...the way she was."

"You know…" Mal ventured, "You've never told us how you met River. How did you find out you _could_ help her?"

John sighed, a peculiar hissing sound that had to be something he'd picked up from his human allies. He glanced at the others. There was really no keeping any secret here; they were too close, both physically and psychologically. He glanced at River, who nodded. _Go ahead, John. Tell them._ "Very well. I...as I told you, I was captured by the Alliance forces. They kept me prisoner at the same place as River, at the Academy. I'm not completely sure why; perhaps they planned a dissection at some point. It doesn't matter.

"Anyway...during my captivity, I became very hungry. They really had no idea as to what my dietary requirements were, and I could not tell them. I was starving. You may have noticed that I take my meals alone, from the rest of you."

"I'd noticed. Actually, it'd be kinda strange if you _did_ eat the same as us. And I'm not gonna ask about what the difference is. I get the impression it's something I'd rather not know."

"Thank you, and yes, it is. Anyway," he glanced back at River, who again nodded supportingly. Simon moved over to her, sensing her strong emotions. "There I was, curled up on the floor, dying of malnutrition. Certain vitamins, nutrients... Anyway, the door opened and River was... _escorted_ , shall we say...into my holding cell."

"They threw River into your cell? Why?"

"I have no idea. Surely they did not expect me eat her! But I don't know. But, anyway, she stood there a moment, then came over and lay down next to me. And went to sleep."

Mal's face registered shock, an expression mirrored by Simon, Jayne, and even stoic Zoe. "She...curled up next to...you…" And John see what he didn't say: _an alien monster_ -"and just...went to sleep? Just like that?" He looked at River for confirmation. She nodded. "But how did…?"

"I...I don't know how, but I sensed her need. Her mind...very unstable, unbalanced. In trying to communicate with her—I did not yet know your language—I used my abilities. And I found I could... _patch_ her mind together. Or perhaps, _tie_ it together? I know of no other way to describe it. I shaped my mental patterns to match those that were missing in hers. The result…" He gestured to River, "The result you see.

"But that was not all. The Alliance scientists, needless to say, found out about these abilities of mine, and determined to exploit them. Considering the obvious advantage," and here, he nodded to River, who hadn't moved, "I suppose I can follow their logic. So...a small portion of what they took from River-a part of her brain-was implanted into me, in an attempt to better understand and control my powers."

More shock. Simon was the first to speak up. "You mean...you've got a _part of River's brain_ in your skull?"

"Yes, Simon Tam. That furthers the bond between us, as I'm sure you can understand.

"There seem to be an awful lot of things in your brain, John."

"Yes, Mal. I only wish it included answers."

…

Not far away, a Rrift surgeon very carefully lifted off the top of the skull of the captive human. The human was, of course, still awake during this procedure; he had been immobilized while the incisions were being made. No anesthetic was employed in the procedure, as it had been determined that such might endanger the life of the subject due to their lack of understanding of the human physique, so therefore he had been injected with massive doses of steroids to prevent him from going into shock from the pain. The surgeon swung a magnifying lens over the area in question while the human twisted and writhed in agony.

There. Implant the nexus there, the relay next to it, and connect them both to the sequencer. Now for the uplink module…

….

On board the _Angel One:_ Inara was spellbound by the lights of the console in front of which she was stationed. They were all so... _fascinating._ And to _understand,_ to just _know,_ what each one was for, was...well, it was _amazing._

 _Ping!_ The detector, in passive mode, registered the hit of a Rrift active sensor. That wasn't unusual; the paranoid Rrift had filled nearby space with hyperdar signals. All of them were linked in an ever-changing formulaic pattern so as prevent false positives as registering.

But one _ping!_ was followed by another, and yet another. "Signal Mal," she said, to Kaylee down in the _Serenity._

"It looks like we may have to move, shortly."

Mal relayed Inara's message to the others. "We've gotta make it back to the _Angel._ " He turned to the Rrift. "Don't suppose you have any bright ideas?" he asked sarcastically.

"Set off a number of explosions a distance of five of your kilometers away from where you wish to be picked up, with each one increasingly closer to your current location. Then have your shuttle come in from fifteen degrees to either side of the exact opposite direction." It paused a moment, while the others, including John, watched, mouths practically agape. "At least," it said, after a brief moment, "that is what my group did two _quahrons_ ago, except we came in from the direction of the explosions. It was meant to be a clearing-out move."

"I still can't get over how you're just...well, just selling out your own species."

The drone looked at them uncomprehendingly. "I am neither accepting nor being offered any remuneration for my efforts."

"You know what I-on second thought," he thought, running a hand over his face, "let's just drop it. I'm getting one of _those_ headaches, again."

…..

The sleek Ge'shen scouting craft entered the human star system with all sensors already on the alert, stealth mode fully active. The captain knew there'd been reliable reports of Rrift activity in this system, and he was taking no chances. If the Rrift were here at all, they were here in force. That was the Rrift mentality.

His ship and crew were considered expendable, but the information he accumulated was not, hence the live feed back to the Ge'shen High Command.

If there were Rrift here, he would find them.

But the Rrift were not the only reason they were here, nor the main one.

….

"We haven't got anywhere near that many explosives in the _Serenity_ ," said Mal, wearily. "It's not like we're a military vessel or anything. And I don't think we could jury-rig anything, not in the length of time we have."

"You must make do," said the drone. "It is the only way I know."

"John? Anything on the _Angel_ we could switch around?"

But John was shaking his head. "I can't think of anything, Mal. It is as you say, mine is not a military vessel. What few devices I have that could prove of value in such a situation are not capable of making a full-scale assault."

The drone made a sound. It wasn't exactly a clearing of its throat, but it caused them to look around. "Logically, if you do not have and cannot make such explosive devices, then you must steal them."

John nodded. "That _is_ logical." His gaze didn't leave the drone. "Though I must confess to extreme curiosity as to why you are doing this."

The drone made gesture they all had come to recognize as a shrug. "If I knew, I would tell you. I have held nothing back."

"Can and will you tell us of a place where there are such bombs _as are portable_ ," Mal had learned that the drone seemed to take everything literally. It was almost like passive-aggressive behavior in a human. But who could say with an alien psyche? After all, the Rrift hadn't _had_ to say anything.

"I can and I will."

"Are they far away?"

"No. On any of the worlds we hold, no weapon is ever very far away from our reach."

"Very good." He turned to Zoe. "Untie it. But not the hands or tail."

" _What?"_ said Jayne. "You've lost it, man!"

"You can't be serious, Mal," said John, almost in a state of shock, as were the rest of them. "This is a human joke, correct?"

"Incorrect. We can't keep on dragging it around wherever we go. Tied like that, it can't be of much danger to us, surely."

"Mal! You do not know what you are doing!"

Mal turned to the drone. "You've been straight with us so far. Will you stay so helpful if we untie you that far?"

"Yes."

"Mal-" John was clearly having to fight with himself. "Something is wrong with you." He stared, momentarily, into Mal's eyes. Mal felt something tickle the back of his mind. "But...it is not exerting its powers on you. I...do not understand why you are doing this."

Mal turned to John. "John...I don't mean this to sound harsh, but you are displaying signs of what we humans call _prejudice._ Now, maybe you're right," he said, just as John opened his mouth to respond, "and maybe I'm lettin' myself in for a ton of 'I told you so's' later on-providing we live-but this is simply a matter of a command decision. We _can't_ keep on dragging Geronimo around like this. It keeps _us_ down, weighs down on our own manpower. And I'm not willing to just kill it, not," he turned a cold gaze at the drone, who looked on, impassively, "at this time. But," and here he turned to the drone, who took no visible notice of understanding the implied threat. "Alright," said Mal. He got on his communicator. "Kaylee? You there?"

" _Right here, Mal. What'cha needin'?"_ Mal couldn't help but smile. Even being trapped on an alien world full of killers couldn't dampen her spirits.

"We're gonna try something. Be ready with the _Serenity._ We'll have to use it as a shuttle. Our other one got...repo'd, I guess you'd say."

" _Funny you should mention having to move. Inara says we've been gettin' too many pings on the hyperdar scans. I think we're made. Or close to it."_

"All the more reason to hurry." He turned to the drone. "Where are these bombs of yours?"

….

Far out in space, the Ge'shen scout ship had also picked up the steady stream of _pings_ from the Rrift hyperdar system. _Hm,_ thought the captain. _It seems they've located prey._ He turned to his lieutenant, "Azwall, prepare the microdrones. Launch at your will."

"Aye, sire." There was a series of vibrations as the pods were ejected from the ship. A short range away, each pod would split into dozens of smaller pods, which would then follow the Rrift hyperdar signals back to the ships and ground and orbital stations where they originated. They would then attach themselves to whatever was emitting those signals, emit a brief location ping….

...and explode with the force of the tiny antimatter charge inside them. In the ensuing commotion, the Ge'shen scout would gather as much information as it could about Rrift strengths and concentrations, and…

...about one other thing, something that was on everyone's mind.

The Crystal.

There was good evidence that the Crystal, or a shard thereof, had been spotted within this system. If so, the system was ultimately doomed. However, if the Rrift could be weakened, and exposed, made vulnerable…

...then it was hoped the Crystal, being the apex predator it was, would fall upon them first, allowing the Ge'shen time to prepare.

Prepare for the evacuation of this entire solar system, as best as they could.

 _To be continued…_


	13. Chapter 13: An Old Aquaintance

Firefly: The Geshen Wars: The Rrift

Chapter 13: An Old Acquaintance Makes an Appearance

Meanwhile, Mal, John, and the others, with the Rrift drone in front-covered, nonincidentally, by their weapons-made their way between the spiky forest and destroyed dwellings that characterized the portion of the planet they were on. Idly, Mal wondered if the destruction of the human habitats had been from Reaver action or Rrift. Not that it mattered, of course. "The armory is seven _kilogs_ in that direction."

"And a kilog is….?"

"Approximately seventy of your yards."

"So why didn't you...never mind." _Don't look a gift horse in the mouth._ "Let's go people. Zoe, you've got the back?"

But two streets over, they encountered a problem. " _Hsst!"_ went John, pulling Mal back. "There is someone coming!"

"Who? Oh, never mind. How did you know?"

"I smell blood. Human blood."

…..

Orbit: the _Angel One_ was warmed up as much as Kaylee and Inara could make it. Any further activation of the engines would practically shout their position to the Rrift. "Well, that's the best we can d—*" At that point, things went crazy.

…

"Blood? Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mal. I have smelled human blood before. I am very sure."

" _Come out,"_ said a distant voice. _"They mean you no harm."_

The group arranged themselves along a wall, keeping their eyes opened along both ways. Mal was acutely conscious of the fact that this small alleyway could easily become a trap. There were no fire ladders.

" _Come out,"_ said the voice again. It was clearly a human voice. _"The Rrift only want to help you."_

"Yeah, like we believe _that._ " He turned to John. "John? Ideas?"

"Surrender is a bad idea."

"Now don't _you_ start. You know what I mean."

"Let me see." John moved to the front, bypassing the drone. He gave it the briefest of glances, but to Mal, it seemed like a very suspicious glance. Well, perhaps he could be forgiven that; they _were,_ after all, enemies. Mal wondered if John had ever lost anyone, any loved one, to Rrift action. It might make his recent actions a bit more explainable.

John poked his head around the corner for the briefest of seconds, then withdrew into the alley with the rest. "We have problems."

"Uh, John? I don't know if you've been paying attention, but we've _had_ problems for longer than I like to think about. But I gather you mean _worse_ problems."

"Yes. There are three Rrift out there. They have a hacked human. That is whose voice you are hearing."

"I figured. But only three Rrift?"

"They have a _sssshhithiqs_ with them."

"A which now?"

"It is a grouping of preprogrammed nanobots, able to assume any shape and function from a weapon to a small shuttle. A very versatile device."

"How do we defeat it?"

"We don't. We have nothing that will stop a _sssshhhithiqs_."

"We should run," said the drone. "It is only logical."

"Maybe, but...Geronimo! Is there some other way to these bombs?"

"No."

Mal exhaled. "Why did I know you were gonna say that?" He straightened up. "So that means retreat isn't an option. We have to defeat it somehow. Then the drones won't pose any serious problem."

"Malcolm Reynolds, did you not just hear me? We have nothing that will stop it."

"What about those nanobots in your pouch?"

"I used them all up earlier, to get us away from the Rrift in the corridor."

" _All_ of them?

John checked his pouch. "Perhaps not all. There could be a remnant left."

"Can you use them?"

"To do what, Malcolm Reynolds? They are only a small scraping."

"But they can make more of themselves, can't they?"

"Yes, but they can hardly take on a…" Then his gaze defocused, as he got a "thousand yard stare." "Yessss...I see...that is a possibility…"

"What?"

"Tell you in a minute. Or better still, show you. The rest of you, get ready to fire at the drones. Forget the human; without his handlers, he will be a limp puppet. Now…" He pulled out a small disk and stared at it for a moment.

"What are you trying to do?" asked the drone. "I have gathered you do not have enough nanobots to begin to disassemble a _sssshhithiqs_. It is suicide to try."

"Not to disassemble," replied John, "not to disassemble. To _infect."_ And with that, he thrust the disk back into his pocket, and threw himself out into the middle of the dusty road rolling over and over.

Mal turned to the others to relay John's order, when it hit him.

The hacked "human" they had with them...he'd only had the briefest of glimpses, but, and the man had obviously been the subject of much surgery...but...he still recognized him.

It was the Operative.

But he couldn't focus too much of his attention on the former human just then, as just behind him was...something very strange. Something that exuded a palpable aura of menace. He wasn't comfortable being on the same planet with it, let alone being within eyesight of it.

It looked like a metallic cloud. Every part of it changed, even as they watched. It apparently had no stable form.

And John threw his pouch directly into the thing. He opened fire on the drones, but the metallic cloud extruded a part of itself to intercept the invisible beams.

Mal and the others also opened fire. The _sssshhhithiqs_ easily blocked their blasts, while the drones also opened fire, primarily at John, but some targeted the humans in the alley. "Awright!" said Mal. "Let's do it!" He flung himself into the dusty road beside John.

But something odd was happening to the _sssshhhithiqs._ It seemed to be struggling with itself, and one side was bulging outward. " _Now,_ Mal! Concentrate your firepower on the drones! Forget the _sssshhhithiqs!_ " Under their combined fire the drones fell. They seemed to possess no tactical knowledge, though some did try to seek some sort of shelter behind the obviously ailing _sssshhhithiqs_.

A portion of the _sssshhhithiqs_ began to darken and extrude from the area where John's pouch had landed. Outward it expanded, like a balloon being blown up, that portion sparking with red bolts that somehow did not seem to be electrical in nature. The rest of the _sssshhhithiqs_ cloud seemed to crowd around it, as though trying to enclose it, smother it, somehow. "Now, Malcom Reynolds! You must hurry, while its attention is on itself!"

"Whaddaya mean 'you'? Where are you going?" Mal asked, as the others gathered for a run. The drone merely looked on, seemingly unaffected by the sight of its fallen comrades.

"I will be with you soon!"

"No, John! It's not worth it!" shouted River. It still amazed Mal, that _River_ , of all people, after all she'd gone through, should now be able to converse normally. She seemed to have some idea as to what he planned.

He looked at her, at them all. He put his clawed upper right hand on her shoulder, gently. "I must, River, because of who I am. You know this. Now go. Go swiftly and far. Get the bombs." Another look, a gentle one focused on River. "I will join you as soon as I can."

They ran.

Over by one wall sat the meat puppet that had once been the Operative. He had not been harmed in the firefight, but he had no will of his own. His brain was no longer in charge of itself, let alone his body or his soul.

A figure appeared in front of him, a four-armed figure like the ones he vaguely remembered. It stood before him, then knelt down in front of him. He gazed, unblinking, slack-jawed, at it. "Whatever your crimes, human, whatever your sins, you did not deserve this.

"I know what you need, what you want. Close your eyes." And the human meat puppet complied, having no commands to the contrary, leaning his head forward, as if a part of him long since surgically removed knew what was coming.

John stood up and leveled his weapon...

 _To be continued…_


	14. Chapter 14: A Voyage Begins

Firefly: The Geshen Wars: the Rrift

Chapter 14: A Voyage Begins

…..

 _Don't own, etc._

…

Chapter 14: A Voyage Begins

He rejoined them shortly thereafter. Rive looked at him with concern; of them all, she knew what he'd had to do, what he'd felt like he had to do. "Are you...okay, John?"

"Yes," he replied. "Now...about those bombs…" At that exact moment, the sky went crazy.

As seen from the ground, it looked like a million flashbulbs had gone off in the sky. Rrift ships were rocketing about, but every so often, some about them seemed to explode. _"Hurry!_ " urged Inara, "this is our chance!"

Already pre-warmed, the engines of the _Serenity_ flared to life, falling out of the hatch in the side of John's ship. "Mal? Head's up!" shouted Kaylee into her communicator.

The _Serenity_ came in like a falling star, so fast that Mal worried about decel gees. But Wash braked expertly, turning the ship so as to put the lock on their side. They practically threw themselves into the hold, and the ship began rising almost before the lock doors fully closed. "Don't know what's happening," shouted Wash, "But it's big. Seems like every Rrift ship is going bonkers."

"It must be my people," said John, calmly, climbing to his feet, in spite of the heavy gees. _Just how fast was Wash going?_ Wondered Mal. But frankly, as long as it got them to the _Angel One_ in one piece _,_ he didn't care. Anywhere was better than where they'd been. He noticed the drone seemed to be having trouble getting to its feet, and, grasping it by its shoulders, assisted it in rising. "I thank you," it said. Mal noticed John looking away. His estimation of the Geshen was beginning to lower somewhat.

…..

High overhead, its presence masked by the exploding Rrift ships, the _Ge'shen_ scout flew in a long parabolic arc straight through the alien armada. Its sensors were at max capacity, but they were not seeking out the Rrift. "Commander," said the helm officer, "I am picking up a non-anomalous signal, far out, nearly on the other side of the system's homestar. It _could_ be an error in the sensors' computations, or a solar disturbance…"

"I am sure you recalibrated them for that possibility."

"Uhm, yes, Sire."

"Then that is not likely," finished the commander. "I must alert the homeworld."

…..

Wash had nearly rammed the _Angel One_ in his haste to dock. Mal let him drive; high-gee maneuvers were what he was best at. "Everybody grab onto your butts!" shouted Kaylee, as Inara activated the drive.

Propelled by its space drive, the _Ge'shen_ vessel slammed its way into the very space most populated by the Rrift ships. Those ships were having hard times of their own, but still, fully indoctrinated as they were, some turned in pursuit. John reached the control area and slipped into the command seat Inara hastily and gratefully vacated. He initiated a series of spiraling maneuvers designed to throw off Rrift ballistic ordnance and warbeams...but the pursuers had also let fly with homing missiles. "I do not know if I can outrun them," grated John to the others. "Our only chance is to activate the star drive-if it is functional."

"And if it's not?"

"Then _we_ will soon be nonfunctional, Malcolm Reynolds."

Up and outward the _Ge'shen_ vessel tore. "Strap in," John advised them. "There will be side effects."

"What sort of side effects?" shouted Jayne. But he strapped in as best he could.

"You will soon see!" And the _Ge'shen_ star drive powered up.

In the middle of the central hollow something very strange happened. Energies unknown to man coalesced, forming a singularity, a place where all the known laws of physics broke down. As is the nature of things, an event horizon formed around it. More energies focused, teasing the event horizon into two separate parts: what humans would call a "black hole," as well as its direct opposite: a "white hole," shining so brightly, it was hard to look at. Even more energies teased / formed them into rings.

One such ring-the hungry black vortex-moved through the cavity to the front of the ship. The other, a repelling white hole, moved, simultaneously, to the rear, matching the black one centimeter for centimeter. All in the ship could feel the passing gravity waves as they did so, but the dampeners held.

The black ring in front began to pull them towards itself, as was its nature. The ship moved, and the ring, tethered by electromagnetic forces, moved outward, a carrot on a stick. Meanwhile, its white counterpart _pushed_ the ship from the rear.

Now the converted freighter _really_ began to move. "What about those missiles?" asked River, nervously. The missiles had continued to home on them.

"They are of no matter now," replied John. "The white repulsive ring to the rear repels with the same force that a black hole attracts. Even if they were able to catch us, they will be unable to get through _its_ event horizon." And, even as they watched, the missiles deflected, by some invisible force, some ramming into random asteroids, or just shooting off into space, directionless. "Now," said John, "Now we are safe. Relatively speaking, of course." He glanced at the drone, who simply stared back, expressionless.

 _I'm really gonna have to have a talk with him about some things,_ thought Mal. And he wondered.

Specifically, he wondered if their alien friend could really be trusted.

And if he could not...what about the rest of his people?

Mal had always been suspicious of others, a lesson hard learned in the forge of war. But now he was becoming familiar with a new kind of suspicion: contacting John's people, revealing their presence...might not be the wisest of decisions.

But for now, it seemed like the decision had been made. They were headed for the stars.

And there was no turning back.

….

"Commander, we are receiving a communication on one of our old frequencies."

"One of our _old_ frequencies?" said the commander of the _Ge'shen_ scout. "Whoever it is, they are plainly revealing their presence to the Rrift. Surely no _Ge'shen_ would be so foolhardy, with matters as they are."

"Nonetheless, Sire, it is there. Outward from the main homestar, many _squarans_ from here. Here, Sire. See." And he sent the information to the commander's tactical readout.

"Ss," said the later, thoughtfully rubbing the side of his neck below the ribbed fringe. "So it is. Can you pick up anything more besides this one repeating signal?"

"I believe I can, Sire, but it will require some time, additional time spent here in this system. Do you wish me to conduct such an investigation, given...how matters seem to be?"

"If it is a _Ge'shen_ signal, then it surely must be from one of our people, perhaps one who has been stranded here, for reasons and circumstances unknown. We must make the effort to perform such rescue as we can...but should the _other_ matter become a greater threat, then we must break off, and inform High Command." Again he thoughtfully rubbed his neck. "They will definitely need to know of the high probability of Crystal infestation here in this system. Our people may be called upon to rescue more than one individual." He let out what was, for his kind, a resigned sigh. "This star system is greatly populated. If there is Crystal here...that will soon change. Our resources will be strained to a much larger degree than to prevent these Rrift from conquest." He gestured to the lieutenant. "Do what you can but take no more than forty-nine _ourans_." The lieutenant gulped nervously, and hurried to comply. He did not fear for himself, but for the countless sentient creatures they had detected. After all, as the commander had, should there truly be Crystal infestation here, the entire star system would be under a far greater threat than that of mere war.

A Crystal infestation was regarded by both races as an extinction level threat, and rightly so.

….

The _Angel One:_ Shepherd Book stood by one of the viewing ports along the passageway, his ever-present Bible in his hands. There was an indescribable look of pure _joy_ shining from his eyes. "Looks like you're enjoying the show," said Simon, coming up alongside him.

"You've no idea, young man. Ever since I was a boy, barely able to know what the stars were, I've dreamed of traveling to them. Now, it's happening. I...I can hardly wait to see this new world, the world of the Geshen."

"You know," said Simon, resting his arms on the side of the port, "I actually would have thought you'd be disappointed, or, or put off, in some way, by something like this."

"Oh? Why so?" Shepherd Book turned to look at him.

"Well, your holy book...it says God created man. Now, here we have proof that we aren't the only intelligent beings out there...out here, actually. Had we discovered there _were_ no other intelligent beings...wouldn't that have, sort of, fortified your position on things? But that's not happening."

Shepherd Book chuckled, slightly. "Oh, Simon. I can see this is something you haven't given a lot of thought to. The very fact that we _aren't_ alone in the cosmos simply means the Creator has had other creations. And why shouldn't He? What would be the point in creating _just_ man, alone?

"We were told to tend to his garden. We failed at that, and so were cast out of Paradise. Try as we might, we can never seem to overcome that.

"But now we know there are _others._ Other beings like us, who have their own connection to the Infinite, I'm sure. Perhaps we can learn from them? We might never regain the Paradise we sought, but perhaps we can learn to make a better garden than the one we have so far?

"And you know what? At the very least, we've found...relatives, relatives in the sense of being sentient creatures. Even if some prove hostile, we've still discovered that _we aren't alone in the Creator's universe._ That is a _wondrous_ thing.

"Perhaps...perhaps He's been busy preparing another Garden for us?"

…..

"I think I had it working there, for a minute." The smaller of the two men, whom they called Jimbo, told Lloyd. "I couldn't be sure, you know. I mean, this is totally alien tech. But I'm sure I found a way into the circuitry through a back-door type a' thing. I detected current flow. But it's bass-akward from anything we use."

"Doesn't matter," said Lloyd. "What matters is, you were able to make it work, right? Even if only for a minute or two?"

"Yeah. An' I think I kinda figured out some'a how it works. Given time and the materials, I think I could make something like this I mean, it's not hard." But here he frowned. "But...you think we should?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, this guy, this alien guy warned us about these, what'd he call 'em? _Rrift?_ Maybe we'd attract their attention?"

She scoffed. "If there was anything to that, we'd a'heard about it by now."

"But why would he lie? I mean, the guy had the drop on us. He didn't _have_ to do anything, once he got his ship back."

Lloyd frowned. To be honest, she'd wondered about that. "He was lying to save his own skin. Had to be." But in the back of her mind, she still wondered. The creature hadn't had real _reason_ to continue his deception, after all. And he had (he'd said), freely given them the communicator, the gadget, whatever it was _after_ he'd stopped being their captive. "Go ahead with building this thingy." He continued to look worried. She bridled slightly; she wasn't used to being questioned by an underling. But she was used to dealing with people on their own level. "Besides," she said, "look at it this way. If their _are_ these things in this system, we need more than ever to be able to contact somebody, right? Even the cops. And if they _don't_ exist, if he was just having some kinda alien fun with us, then there's nobody to alert, right? You said yourself it was omni-directional. We'd have to give our coordinates away for anybody to even know where to find us. And we just don't. Until we're ready, I mean. Same way we've gotten by all these years, ever since we escaped. So...we just be careful. Right?" He looked relieved, but then he frowned again.

"But his ship _was_ hit by _something_ , boss. I know damage from weapons fire when I see it, an' it didn't look like anything we've got."

Shrug, even as she fought to control her own fears. "Doesn't mean it was aliens, though, does it? If it'd been the feds, then they probably know about where to find him, anyway. Sheer probability: there's more of _us_ running around than alien invaders. So it was probably feds...and they couldn't find him. And if feds _do_ come looking for him, well, we'll have a bargaining chip. So quit worrying about it. So there. Now, get back to work. I want off this ice ball more than any of you."

He couldn't deny her logic...but he still worried.

 _To be continued..._


End file.
